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ADVERTISTilMENTS. 



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UNDER THE STORM 


STEADFAST’S CHARGE. 


.--V 



OHAKLOTTE M. YONGE. 


NEW YORK! 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 27 Vandbwatbb Strbbt, 






OHAELOTTE M. YONGE’S WOEKS 

CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION)’. 

NO. PRICE, 

247 The Armourer’s Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or, Domineering . . . . 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Shield 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father 20 

665 The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest 20 

666 My Young Alcides. A Faded Photograph . . 20 

739 The Caged Lion 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

783 Chantry House 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or, Tlie White and Black Ri- 

baumont. First half 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or, The White and Black Ri- 

baumont. Second half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes from the Life of a Spinster. 

First half . . 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes from the Life of a Spinster. 

Second half 20 

887 A Modern Telemachus 20 

1024 Under the Storm; or. Steadfast’s Charge . . .20 


UNDER THE STORM 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE TRUST. 

I brought them here as to a sanctuary. 

Southey. 

Most of us have heard of the sad times in the middle of 
the seventeenth century, when Englishmen were at war 
with one another and quiet villages became battle-fields. 

We hear a great deal about King and Parliament, great 
lords and able generals, Cavaliers and Roundheads, but this 
story is to help us to think how it must have gone in those 
times with quiet folk in cottages and farm-houses. 

There had been peace in England for a great many years, 
ever since the end of the wars of the Roses. So the towns 
did not want fortifications to keep out the enemy, and 
their houses spread out beyond the old walls; and the 
country houses had windows and doors large and wide 
open, with no thought of keeping out foes, and farms and 
cottages were freely spread about everywhere, with their 
fields round them. 

The farms were very small, mostly held by men who did 
all the work themselves with the help of their families. 

Such a farm belonged to John Kenton of Elmwood. It 
lay at the head of a long green lane, where the bushes over- 
head almost touched one another in the summer, and the 
mud and mire were very deep in winter; but that mattered 
the less as nothing on wheels went up or down it but the 


6 


UNDER THE STORM. 


hay or harvest carts, creaking under their load, and drawn 
by the old mare, with a cow to help her. 

Beyond lay a few small fields, and then a bit of open 
ground scattered with gorse and thorn bushes, and much 
broken by ups and downs. There, one afternoon on a big 
stone was seated Steadfast Kenton, a boy of fourteen, 
sturdy, perhaps loutish, with an honest ruddy face under 
his leathern cap, a coarse smock-frock and stout gaiters. 
He was watching the fifteen sheep and lambs, the old goose 
and gander and their nine children, the three cows, eight 
pigs, and the old donkey which got their living there. 

From the top of the hill, beyond the cleft of the river 
Avon, he could see the smoke and the church towers of the 
town of Bristol, and beyond it, the slime of the water of the 
Bristol Channel; and nearer, on one side, the spire of Elm- 
wood Church looked up, and, on the other, the woods 
round Elmwood House, and these ran out as it were, 
lengthening and narrowing into a wooded cleft or gully. 
Hermit’s Gully, which broke the side of the hill j ust below 
where Steadfast stood, and had a little clear stream running 
along the bottom. 

Steadfast’s little herd knew the time of day as well as if 
they all had watches in their pockets, and they never failed 
to go down and have a drink at the brook before going back 
to the farm-yard. 

They did not need to be driven, but gathered into the 
rude steep path that they and their kind had worn in the 
side of the ravine. Steadfast followed, looking about him 
to judge how soon the nuts would be ripe, while his little 
rough stiff-haired dog Toby poked about in search of rab- 
bits or hedgehogs, or the like sport. 

Steadfast liked that pathway home beside the stream, as 
boys do love running water. Good stones could be got 
there, water-rats might be chased, there were strawberries 
on the banks which he gathered and threaded on stalks of 
grass for his sisters, Patience and Jerusha. They used to 


tJKDER THE STORM. 


7 


come with him and have pleasant games, but it was a long 
time since Patience had been able to come out, for in the 
winter a grievous trouble had come on the family. The 
good mother had died leaving a little baby of six weeks old, 
and Patience, who was only thirteen, had to attend to 
everything at home, and take care of poor little sickly 
Benoni with no one to help her but her little seven years 
old sister. 

The children's lives had been much less bright since that 
sad day; and Steadfast seldom had much time for play. 
He knew he must get home as fast he could to help Pa- 
tience in milking the cows, feeding the pigs and poultry, 
and getting the supper, or some of the other things that his 
elder brother Jephthah called wench- work and would 
not do. 

He could not, however, help looking up at the hole in the 
side of the steep cliff, where one might climb up to such a 
delightful cave, in which he and Patience had so often 
played on hot days. It had been their secret, and a kind 
of palace to them. They had sat there as king and queen, 
had paved it with stones from the brook, and had had many 
plans for the sports they would have there this summer, lit- 
tle thinking that Patience would have been turned into a 
grave, busy little housewife, instead of a merry, playful 
child. 

Toby looked up too, and began to bark. There was a 
rustling in the bushes below the cave, and Steadfast^ at 
first in dismay to see his secret delight invaded, beheld be- 
tween the mountain ash boughs and ivy, to his great sur- 
prise, a square cap and black cassock tucked up, and then 
a bit of brown leathern coat, which he knew full well. It 
was the Vicar, Master Hoi worth, and his father. John 
Kenton was Church-warden, so it was no wonder to see 
him and the Parson together, but what could bring them 
here — into Steadfast's cave? and with a dark lantern tool 
They, seemed as surprised, perhaps as vexed as he was, at 


8 


UKBER THE STORM. 


the sight of him, but his father said, “ ^Tis my lad. Stead- 
fast, 1^11 answer for him. 

“ And so will returned the clergyman. “ Is any 
one with you, my boy?^’ 

No, your reverence, no one save the beasts. 

“ Then come up here,^’ said his father. ‘‘ Some one 
has been playing here, I see.’^ 

‘‘ Patience and I, father, last summer. 

“ No one else?^^ 

“No, no one. We put those stones and those sticks 
when we made a fire there last year, and no one has 
meddled with them since. 

“ Thou and Patience,’^ said Mr. Holworth, thoughtfully. 

“Not Jephthah nor the little maid?^^ 

“ No, sir,^^ replied Steadfast, “ we would not let them 
know, because we wanted a place to ourselves. 

For in truth the quiet ways and little arrangements of 
these two had often been much disturbed by the rough elder 
brother who teased and laughed at them, and by the trou- 
blesome little sister, who put her fingers into everything. 

The Vicar and the Church-warden looked at one another, 
and John Kenton muttered, “ True as steel. 

“ Your father answers for you, my boy,^^ said the Vicar. 

“So we will e’en let you know what we are about. I 
was told this morn by a sure hand that the Parliament men, 
who now hold Bristol Castle, are coming to deal with the 
village churches even as they have dealt with the minister 
and with St. Mary’s, Redcliffe.” 

“ A murrain on them !” muttered Kenton. 

“ I wot that in their ignorance they do it,” gently quoted 
the Vicar. “ But we would fain save from their hands the 
holy Chalice and paten which came down to our Church 
from the ancient times — and which bearing on them, as 
they do, the figure of the Crucifixion of our blessed Lord, 
would assuredly provoke the zeal of the destroyers. There- 
fore have we placed them ir^this casket, and your father 


UNDER THE STORM. 


9 


devised ‘hiding them within this cave, which he thought 
was unknown to any save himself — 

“ Yea,^^ said John, “ my poor brother Will and I were 
wont to play there when we herded the cattle on the hill. 
It was climbing yon ash-tree that stands out above that he 
got the fall that was the death of him at last. IVe never 
gone nigh the place with mine own good will since that 
day — nor knew the children had done so — but methought 
Hwas a lonesome place on mine own land, where we might 
safest store the holy things till better times come round. ** 

“ And so I hope they will,^^ said Mr. Holworth. ‘‘ I 
hear good news of the King’s cause in the north.” 

Then they began to consult where to place the precious 
casket. They had brought tinder and matches, and Stead- 
fast, who knew the secrets of the cave even better than 
his father, showed them a little hollow, far back, which 
would just hold the chest, and being closed in front with a 
big stone, fast wedged in, was never likely to be discovered 
readily. 

“ This has been a hiding-place already.” 

“ Methinks this has once been a chapel,” said the clergy- 
man presently, pointing to some rude carvings— one some- 
thing like a cross, and a large stone that might have served 
as an altar. 

“Belike,” said Kenton, “there’s an old stone pile, a 
mere hovel, down below, where my grandfather said he re- 
membered an old monk, a hermit, or some such gear — a 
Papist — as lived in hiding. He did no hurt, and was a 
man from these parts, so none meddled with him, or gave 
notice to the Queen’s officers, and our folk at the farm sold 
his baskets at the town, and brought him a barley loaf 
twice a week till he died, all alone in his hut. Very like 
he said his mass here.” 

John wondered to find that the minister thought this 
made the place more suitable. The whole cavern was so 
low that the two men could’ hardly stand upright in it. 


10 


UKDER THE STORM. 


though it ran about twelve yards back. There were white 
limestone drops like icicles hanging above from the roof; 
and bats, disturbed by the ' light, came flying about the 
heads of their visitors, while streamers of ivy and old man^s 
beard hung over the mouth, and were displaced by the 
heads of the men. 

None is like to And thespot,^^ said John Kenton, as he 
tried to replace the tangled branches that had been pushed 
aside. 

“ God grant us happier days for bringing it forth, said 
the clergyman. 

All three bared their .heads, and Mr. Hoi worth uttered a 
few words of prayer and blessing; then let John help him 
down the steep scramble and descent, and looked up to see 
whether any sign of the cave could be detected from the 
edge of the brook. Kenton shook his head reassuringly. 

‘‘Ahr^ said Mr. Hoi worth, “it minds me that none 
ever found again the holy Ark of the Covenant that King 
Josiah and the Prophet Jeremiah hid in a cavern within 
Mount Pisgah! And our sins be many that have provoked 
this judgment! Mayhap the boy will be the only one of us 
who will see these blessed vessels restored to their Altar 
once more! He may have been sent hither to that very 
end. Now, look you. Steadfast Kenton — Steadfast thou 
hast ever been, so far as I have known thee, in nature as 
well as in name. Give me thy word that thou wilt never 
give up the secret of yonder cavern to any save a lawfully 
ordained minister of the church. 

“ No doubt poor old Clerk North will be in distress 
about the loss,” said Kenton. 

“ True, but he had best not be told. His mind is fast 
going, and he can not safely be trusted with such a mighty 
secret. 

“Patience knows the cavern,” murmured Steadfast to 
his father. 


Under the storm. 


11 


‘‘ Best have no womenfolk, nor young maids in such a 
matter, said the Vicar. 

“ My wench takes after her good mother, said John, 
ahd I ever found my secrets were safer in her breast than 
in mine own. Not that I would have her told without 
need. But she might take little Kusha there, or make the 
place known to others an she be not warned. ” 

‘ ‘ Steadfast must do as he sees occasion, with your coun- 
sel, Master Kenton,^^ said the Vicar. “ It is a great trust 
we place in you, my son, to be as it were in charge of the 
vessels of the sanctuary, and I would have thy hand and 
word. 

“ And,^^ said his father, “ though he be slower in speech 
than some., your reverence may trust him. 

Steadfast gave his brown red hand, and with head bare 
said, “ I promise, after the minister and before God, never 
to give up that which lies within the cave to any man, 
save a lawfully ordained minister of the Church. 


CHAPTEE II. 

THE STRAGGLERS. 

Trust me, I am exceedingly weaiy. 

Shakespeare. 

John Kenton, though a Church- warden, was, as has 
been said, a very small farmer, and the homestead was no 
more than a substantial cottage, built of the gray-stone of 
the country, with the upper story projecting a little, and 
reached by an outside stair of stone. The farm-yard, with 
the cowsheds, barn, and hay stack were close in front, with 
only a narrow strip of garden between, for there was not 
much heed paid to flowers, and few kitchen vegetables were 
grown in those days, only a few potherbs round the door 
and a sweet-brier bush by the window. 


12 


UNDER THE STORM. 


The COWS had made their way home of their own accord^ 
and Patience was milking one of them already, while little 
Rusha held the baby, which was swaddled up as tightly as 
a mummy, with only his arms free. He stretched them 
out with a cry of gladness as he saw his father, and Kenton 
took the little creature tenderly in his arms and held him 
up, while Steadfast hurried off to fetch the milking-stool 
and begin upon the other cow. 

Is Jeph come home?^’ asked the father, and Rusha 
answered “ No, daddy, though he went ever so long ago, 
and said he would bring me a cake.^^ 

Upon this Master Kenton handed little Benoni back to 
Rusha, not without some sounds of fretfulness from the 
baby, but the pigs had to be shut up and fed, and the other 
evening work of the farm-yard done; and it was not till all 
this was over, and Patience had disposed of the milk in the 
cool cellars, that the father could take him again. 

Meantime Steadfast had brought up a bucket of water 
from the spring, and after washing his own hands and 
face, set out the table with a very clean, though coarse 
cloth, five brown bowls, three horn spoons and two wooden 
ones, one drinking-horn, a couple of red earthed cups and 
two small-hooped ones of wood, a brown pitcher of small 
ale, a big barley loaf, and a red crock, lined with yellow 
glazing, into which Patience presently proceeded to pour 
from a caldron, where it had been simmering over the fire, 
a mess of broth thickened with meal. This does not sound 
like good living, but the Kentons were fairly well-to-do 
smock-frock fafmers, and though in some houses there 
might be greater plenty, there was not much more com- 
fort beneath the ranks of the gentry in the country. 

As for seats, the father^s big wooden chair stood by the 
fire, and there was a long settle, but only stools were used 
at the table, two being the same that had served the 
milkers. J ust as Rusha, at her f ather^s sign, had uttered 
a short Grace, there stood in the door- way a tall, stout. 


UNDEE THE STOKM. 


13 


well-made lad of seventeen, with a high-crowned wide- 
brimmed felt hat, a dark jerkin with sleeves, that, like his 
breeches and gaiters, were of leather, and a belt across his 
shoulder with a knife stuck in it. 

“ Hal Jeph,’^ said Kenton, “ always in time for meat, 
whatever else you miss.^^ 

“ I could not help it, father,^' said Jephthah, “-the red- 
coats were at their exercise!^' 

‘‘ And thou couldst not get away from the gapeseed, eh! 
Come, sit down, boy, and have at thy supper.'’^ 

“ I wish I was one of them,^^ said Jeph, as he sat down. 

“ And thou^dst soon wish thyself back again 1^^ returned 
his father. 

‘‘How much did you get for the fowls and eggs de- 
manded Patience. 

Jephthah replied by producing a leathern bag, while 
Eusha cried out for her cake, and from another pocket 
came, wrapped in his handkerchief, two or three saffron 
buns which were greeted with such joy that his father had 
not the heart to say much about wasting pence, though it 
appeared that the baker woman had given them as part of 
her bargain for a couple of dozen eggs, which Patience de- 
clared ought to have brought two pence instead of only 
three half-pence. 

Jephthah, however, had far too much news to tell to 
heed her disappointment as she counted the money. He 
declared that the price of eggs and butter would go up gal- 
lantly, for more soldiers were daily expected to defend 
Bristol; and he had further to tell of one of the captains 
preaching in the Minster, and the market people flock- 
ing in to hear him. Jeph had been outside, for there 
was no room within, but he had scrambled upon an old 
tombstone with a couple of other lads, and through the 
broken window had seen the gentleman holding forth in 
his hat and feather, buff coat and crimson scarf, and heard 
him call on all around to be strong and hew down all their 


14 


undee the stoem. 


enemies, even dragging the false and treacherous woman 
and her idols out to the horse gate and there smiting them 
even to the death. 

“ Who was the false woman asked Steadfast, 

wot not! There was something about Aholah, or 
some such name, but just then a mischievous little jacka- 
napes pulled me down by the leg, and 1 had to thrash him 
for it, and by the time I had done, Dick, the butcher^s 
lad, had got my place and I heard no more. ” 

Whether the Captain meant Aholah or Athaliah, or 
alluded to Queen Henrietta Maria, or to the English 
Church, Jeph^s auditors never knew. The baby began to 
cry, and Patience to feed him with the milk and water that 
had been warmed at the fire; his father and the boys went 
out to finish the work for the night, little Rusha running 
after them. 

Presently, she gave a cry and darted up to her father: 
“ The soldiers! the soldiers !^^ and in fact three men with 
steel caps, buff coats, and muskets slung by broad belts 
were coming into the yard. 

Kenton took up his little girl in his arms and went for- 
ward to meet them, but he soon saw they did not look 
dangerous; they were dragging along as if very tired and 
foot-sore and as if their weapons were a heavy weight. 

‘‘ IPs the goodman,^^ said the foremost, a red-faced, 
good-natured-looking fellow more like a hostler than a sol- 
dier, have you seen Captain Lundy^s men pass this 
way?’' 

“ Not I!” said Kenton, ‘‘ we live out of the high-road, 
you see.” 

‘‘ But I saw them, a couple of hours agone, marching 
into Bristol,” said Jephthah coming forward. 

“ There now,” said the man, “ we did but stop at the 
sign of the Crab the drinking of a pottle, and to bathe 
Jack’s foot near there, and we have never been able to 
catch them up again! How far off be Bristol?” 


UOT)ER THE STORM. 


15 


“ A matter of four miles across the ferry. You may see 
it from the hill above. 

He looked stout enough though he gave a heavy sigh of 
weariness, and the other two, who were mere youths, not 
much older than Jeph, seemed quite spent, and heard of 
the additional four miles with dismay. 

“ Heart alive, lads,^^ said their comrade, “ ye^ll soon be 
in good quarters, and mayhap the goodman here will give 
you a drink to carry ye on a bit further for the Cause. 

‘‘ You are welcome to a draught for civility^s sake,^^ 
said Kenton, making a sign to his sons, who ran off to the 
house, “ but I^m a plain man, and know naught about the 
Cause. 

“Well, Master,^ ^ said the straggler, as he leaned his 
back against the barn, and his two companions sat down 
on the ground in the shelter, “ I have heard a lot about 
the Cause, but all I know is that my Lord of Essex sent to 
call out five-and-twenty men from our parish, and the 
squire, he was in a proper rage with being rated to pay 
ship money, so — as I had fallen out with my master, mine 
host of the Griffin, more fool I — I went with the young 
gentleman, and a proper ass I was to do so. 

“ Eather said ^twas rank popery railing in the Com- 
munion table, when it was so handy to sit on or io put 
one’s hat on,” added one of the youths looking up. “ So 
he was willing for me to go, and I thought I’d like to see 
the world, but I’d fain be at home again.” 

“ So would not I,” muttered the other lad. 

“ No,” said the ex-tapster, humorously, “ for thou 
knowst the stocks be gaping for thee, Dick.” 

By this time Jeph and Stead had returned with a jug of 
small beer, a horn cup, and three hunches of the barley 
loaf. The men eat and drank, and then the tapster re- 
turning hearty thanks, called the others on, observing that 
if they did not make the best speed, they might miss their 


16 


UNDER THE STORM. 


billet, and have to sleep in the streets, if not become ac- 
quainted with the lash. 

On then unwillingly they dragged, as if one foot would 
hardly come after the other. 

“ Poor lads!^^ said Kenton, as he looked after them, 
“ methinks that's enough to take the taste for soldiering 
out of thy mouth, son Jeph." 

“A set of poor-spirited rogifes," returned Jeph, con- 
temptuously, as he nevertheless sauntered on so as to watch 
them down the lane. 

‘‘ Be they on the right side or the wrong, father?" asked 
Steadfast, as he picked up the pitcher and the horn. 

“ They be dead against our parson, lad," returned Ken- 
ton, “ and he says they be against the Church and the 
King, though they do take the King's name; it don't look 
like the right side to be knocking out church windows, 
eh?" 

“ Nay!" said Steadfast, ‘‘ but there's them as says the 
windows be popish idols." 

“ Never you mind 'em, lad, ye don't bow down to the 
glass, nor worship it. Thy blessed mother would have put 
it to you better than I can, and she knew the Bible from 
end to end, but says she ‘ God would have His worship for 
glory and for beauty in the old times, why not now '?" 

John Kenton had an immense reverence for his late 
wife. She had been far more educated than he, having 
been born and bred up in the household of one of those 
gentlemen who held it as their duty to provide for the re- 
ligious instruction of their servants. 

She had been serving-woman to the lady, who in widow- 
hood went to reside at Bristol and there, during her mar- 
ketings, honest John Kenton had won her by her sterling 
qualities. 

Puritanism did not mean non-conformity, in her days, 
and in fact every one who was earnest and scrupulous was 
apt to be termed a Puritan. Good- wife Kenton was one of 


UNDER THE STORM. 


17 


those pious and simple souls who drink in whatever is good 
in their surroundings; and though the chaplain who had 
taught her in her youth would have differed in controversy 
with Mr. Holworth, she never discovered their diversity, 
nor saw more than that Elmwood Church had more de- 
terioration than the Castle Chapel. Whatever was done 
by authority she thought was right, and she found good 
reason for it in the Bible and Prayer-book her good lady 
had given her. She had named her children after the pre- 
vailing custom of Puritans because she had heard the chap- 
lain object to what he considered unhallowed heathenish 
names, but she had been heartily glad that they should be 
taught and catechised by the good vicar. Happily for her, 
in her country home, she did not live to see the strife 
brought into her own life. 

She had taught her children as much as she could. Her 
husband was willing, but his old mother disapproved of 
learning in that station of life, and aided and abetted her 
eldest grandson in his resistance, so that though she had 
died when he was only eleven or twelve years old, Jeph- 
thah could do no more than just make out the meaning of 
a printed sentence, whereas Steadfast and Patience could 
both read easily, and did read whatever came in their way, 
though that was only a broadside ballad now and then be- 
sides their mother’s Bible and Prayer-book, and one or two 
little black books. 

The three eldest had been confirmed, when the Bishop 
of Bath and Wells had been in the neighborhood. That 
was only a fortnight after their mother died, and even 
Jeph was sad and subdued. 

Since that sad day when the good mother had blessed 
them for the last time, there had been little time for any- 
thing. Patience had to be the busy little housewife, and 
what she would have done without Steadfast she could not 
tell. Jeph would never put a hand to what she called 
maid’s work, but Stead would sweep, or beat the butter. 


18 


UNDER THE STORM. 


or draw the water, or chop wood, or hold the baby, and 
was always ready to help her, even though it hindered him 
from ever going out to fish, or play at base-ball, or any of 
the other sports the village boys loved. 

His quiet, thoughtful ways had earned his father^s trust, 
though he was much slower of speech and less ready than 
his elder brother, and looked heavy both in countenance 
and figure beside Jeph, who was tall, slim, and full of 
activity and animation. He had often made his mother 
uneasy by wild talk about going to sea, and by consorting 
'With the sailors at Bristol, which was their nearest town, 
though on the other side of the Avon, and in a different 
county. 

It was there that the Elmwood people did their market- 
ing, often leaving their donkeys hobbled on their own side 
of the river, being ferried over and carrying the goods 
themselves the -latter part of the way. 


CHAPTER III. 

KIRK RAPINE. 

When impious men held sway and wasted Church and shrine. 

Lord Selborne. 

Patience, in her tight little white cap sat spinning by 
the door, rocking the cradle with her foot, while Rusha 
sometimes built what she called houses with stones, some- 
times trotted to look down the lane to see whether father 
and the lads were coming home from market. 

Presently she brought word, “ Stead is coming. He is 
leading Whitefoot, but I donT see father and Jeph. 

Patience jumped up to put her wheel out of the way, 
and soon she saw that it was only Steadfast leading the old 
mare with the large crooks or panniers on either side. She 
ran to meet him, and saw he looked rather pale and dazed. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


19 


“ What is it. Stead? Whereas daddy?^^ 

‘‘Gone up to Elmwood! They told us in town that 
some of the soldiers and the folk of that sort were going 
out to rabble our church and our parson, and father is 
Church-warden, you know. So he said he must go to see 
what was doing. And he bade me take Whitefoot home 
and give you the money, said Steadfast, producing a bag 
which Patience took to keep for her father. 

She watched very anxiously, and so did Stead, while re- 
lieving AVhitefoot of her panniers and giving her a rub 
down before turning her out to get her supper. 

It was not long however before Kenton and Jeph both 
appeared, the one looking sad, the other sulky. “ Too 
late,^^ Jeph muttered, “ and father wonT let me go to see 
the sport. ” 

“ Sport, d’ye call it?” said Kenton. “ Ay, Stead, you 
may well gape at what we have seen — our good parson 
with his feet tied to his stirrups on a sorry nag, being 
hauled off to town like a common thief!” 

“Oh!” broke from the children, and Patience ventured 
to ask, “ But what for, father?” 

“ They best know who did it,” said the Church-warden. 
“ Something they said of a scandalous minister, as though 
his had not ever been a godly life and preaching. These 
be strange times, children, and for the life of me, I know 
not what it all means. How now, Jeph, what art idling 
there for? There’s the wagon to be loaded for to-morrow 
with the fagots I promised Mistress Lightfoot.” 

Jeph moved away, murmuring something about fetch- 
ing up the cows> to which his father replied, “ That was 
Steadfast’s work, and it was not time yet.” 

In fact Jeph was very curious to know what was going 
on in the village. If there was any kind of uproar, why 
should not he have his part in it? It was just like father 
to hinder him, and he had a great mind to neglect the 
fagots and go off to the village. He was rather sur- 


20 


tJNBER THE STORM. 


prised, and a good deal vexed to see his father walking 
along on the way to the pasture with Steadfast. 

It was for the sake of saying, “ Ay, boy, best not go 
near the sorry sight! They would not let good Master 
Holworth speak with me; but I saw he meant to warn me 
to keep aloof lest Tim Green or the like should remember 
:as how Fm Church-warden. 

“ Did they ask after those things inquired Steadfast, 
5n a lowered voice. 

“I can^t say. But on your life, lad, not a word of 
them!^^ 

After work was done for the evening, Jeph and Stead 
were too eager to know what had happened to stay at 
ll(^^me. They ran across the bit of moor-land to the village 
stre the gray church, whose odd-shaped steeple stood 

up a inoJig the trees. Already they could see that the 
great \V^st window was broken, all the glass which bore the 
picture the Last Judgment, and the Archangel Michael 
weighing souls in the balance was gone I 

“ Yes,^^ said Tom Oates, leaping over two or three 
tombstones to get to them. “ ^Twas rare sport, Jeph 
Kenton. Why were you not there too?’^ 

“ At Bristol with father,'^ replied Jeph. 

“ Worse luck lOr you. The red-coat shot the big angel 
right in the eye, and shivered him through, and we did the 
rest with stones. I sent one that knocked the wing of him 
right off. You should have seen me. Stead! And old 
Clerk North was running about crying all the time like a 
baby. He’ll never whack us over the head again!” 

“ What was the good?” said Steadfast. 

“ You never saw better sport,” said the boys. 

And indeed, since, when once begun, destruction and 
mischief are apt to be only too delightful to boys, they had 
thoroughly and thoughtlessly delighted in knocking down 
the things they had been taught to respect. A figure of a 
knight in a ruff kneeling on a tomb had had its head 


tJNDER THE STORM. 


21 


knocked off, and one of the lads heaved the bits up to 
throw at the last fragment of glass in the window. 

“ What do you do that for?’^ asked Stead. 

Tis worshiping of idols/^ said a somewhat graver 
lad. “ ‘ Break down their idols/ the man in the black 
gown said, ‘ and burn their graven images in the fire.^ 

“ But we never worshiped them,^^ said Stead. 

“Pious preacher said so, returned the youth, “and 
mighty angered was he with the rails. (Jeph and Will 
were sparring with two fragments of them). “ ‘ Down 
with them,^ he cried out, so as it would have done your 
heart good to hear him.^^ 

“ And the parson is gone! There will be no hearing the 
catechism on Sundays!^^ cried Ralph Wilkes, making a leap 
over the broken font. 

“ Good luck for you, Ralph,^^ cried the others. “ You, 
that never could tell how many commandments there be.^^ 

“ Put on your hat. Stead, called out another lad. 

“ WeVe done with all that now, and the parson is gone 
to prison for it.^’ 

“ No, no,^^ shouted Tom Oates, “ ^twas for making 
away with the Communion things. 

“ I heard the red-coat say they had a warrant against 
scandalous ministers, declared Ralph Wilkes. 

“ I heard the man with the pen and ink-horn ask for 
the popish vessels, as he called them, and not a word would 
the parson say,^’ said Oates. 

“Pd take my oath he has hid them somewheres,^^ re- 
plied Jack Beard, an ill-looking lad. 

“ What a windfall they would be for him as found 
them!^^ observed Wilkes. 

“ I^d like to look over the parsonage house,^^ said Jeph. 

“ No use. Old dame housekeeper has locked herself in, 
as savage as a hear with a sore head.^^ 

“ Besides, they did turn over all the parson^s things and 


ukder the STOEM. 


made a bonfire of all his popish books. The little ones b6 
dancing their rounds about it still 

Stead had heard quite enough to make him very uneasy, 
and wish to get home with his tidings to his father. There 
was a girl standing by with a baby in her arms, and she 
asked: 

‘‘ What will they do to our minister 

“ Put him in Little Ease for a scandalous minister, 
was the ready answer. “ But he is a good man. He gave 
us all broth when father had the fever 

“ And who will give granny and me our Sunday din- 
ner?’^ said a little boy. 

“ But therein be no more catechising. Hurrah!^' cried 
Oates, “ hurrah 

“ ^Tis rank superstition,^^ said the red-coat. “ Hur- 
rah and up went their caps. “ Halloo, Stead Kenton, 
not a word to say?^^ 

“ He likes being catechised, standing as he does like a 
stuck pig, and answering never a word,^^ cried Jack. 

I do,’^ said Steadfast, “ and why not?^^ 

Parson ^s darling! Parson’s darling!” shouted the 
boys. A malignant! Off with him. ” They had begun 
to hustle him, when Jeph threw himself between and cried: 

“ Hit Steadfast, and you must hit me first.” 

“ A match, a match!” they cried, Jeph and Jack. ” 

Stead had no fears about Jeph conquering, but while the 
others stood round to watch the boxing, he slipped away, 
with his heart perplexed and sad. He had loved his min- 
ister, and he never guessed how much he cared for his 
church till he saw it lying desolate, and these rude lads re- 
joicing in the havoc; while the words rang in his ears, 
“ And now they break down all the carved work thereof 
with axes and with hammers. ” 


UNDER THE STORM. 


23 


CHAPTER IV. 

A GOOD CAUSE. 

And their Psalter mourneth with them 
O’er the carvings and the grace, 

Which ax and hammer ruin 
In the fair and holy place. 

Bp. Cleveland Coxb. 

When next John Kenton went into Bristol to market 
he tried to discover what had become of Mr. Holworth, 
but could only make out something, about his being sent 
up to London with others of his sort to answer for being 
Baal worshipers! Which, as he observed, he could not un- 
derstand. 

There seemed likely to be no service at the church on 
Sunday, but J ohn thought himself bound to walk thither 
with his sons to see what was going on, and they heard 
such a noise that they looked at each other in amazement. 
It was not preaching, but shouting, laughing, screaming, 
stamping and running. The rude village children were 
playing at hide-and-seek, and Jenny Oates was hidden in 
the pulpit. But at Master Kenton^s loud, How now, 
youngsters? ” they all were frightened, some ran out head- 
long, some sneaked out at the little north door, and the 
place was quiet, but in sad confusion and desolation, the 
altar-table overthrown, the glass of the windows lying in 
fragments on the pavement, the benches kicked over. 

Kenton, with his boy’s help, put what he could straight 
again, and then somewhat to their surprise knelt down 
with bowed head, and said a prayer, for they saw his lips 
moving. Then he locked up the church doors, for the 
keys had been left in them, and slowly and sadly went 
away. 


UKDEK THE STORM. 


M 


“ Thy mother would be sad to see this work,^^ he said 
to Steadfast, as he stopped by her grave. “ They say ^tis 
done for religion^s sake, but 1 know not what to make of 
it."" 

The old Parish Clerk, North, had had a stroke the night 
after the plunder of the church, and lay a-dying and insen- 
sible. His wife gave his keys to Master Kenton, and on 
the following Sunday there was a hue-and-cry for them, 
and Oates the father, the cobbler, a meddling fellow, came 
down with a whole rabble of boys after him to the farm to 
demand them. “ A preacher had come out from Bristol,"" 
he said, “ a captain in the army, and he was calling for 
the keys to get into the church and give them a godly dis- 
course. It would be the worse for Master Kenton if he 
did not give them up. ^ " 

John had just sat down in the porch in his clean Sunday 
smock with the baby on his knee, and Rusha clinging 
about him waiting till Stead had cleaned himself up, and 
was ready to read to them from the mother"s books. 

When he understood Oates"s message he slowly said, “ I 
be in charge of the keys for this here parish. "" 

“ Come, come. Master Kenton, this won"t do, give "un 
up or you" 11 be made to. Times are changed, and we don"t 
want no parsons nor church-wardens now, nor no such 
popery!"" 

I"m accountable to the vestry for the church,"" grave- 
ly said Kenton. “ I will come and see what is doing, and 
open the church if so be as the parish require it."" 

Don"t you see! The parish does — "" 

I don"t call you the parish. Master Oates, nor them 
boys neither,"" said Kenton, getting up however, and plac- 
ing the little one in the cradle, as he called out to Patience 
to keep back the dinner till his return. The two boys and 
Rusha followed him to see what would happen. 

Long before they reached the church-yard they heard 
the sound of a powerful voice, and presently they could see 


TJNBEK THE STORM. 


35 


all the men and women, of the parish, as it seemed, 
gathered about the lich-gate, where, on the large stone on 
which coffins were wont to be rested, stood a tall thin man, 
in a heavy broad-brimmed hat, large bands, crimson scarf, 
and bulf coat, who was in fiery and eager words calling on 
all those around to awaken from the sleep of sloth and sin, 
break their bonds and fight for freedom and truth. He 
waved his long sword as he spoke and dared the armies of 
Satan to come on, and it was hard to tell which he really 
meant, the forces of sin, or the armies of men whom he be- 
lieved to be fighting on the wrong side. 

Some one told him that the keys of the church were 
brought, but he heeded not the interruption, except to 
thunder forth, “ What care I for your steeple-house! The 
Church of God is in the souls of the faithful. Is it not 
written, ‘ The kingdom of heaven is within you What, 
can ye not worship save between four walls?^^ And then 
he went on with the utmost fervor and vehemence, calling 
on all around to set themselves free from the chains that 
held them and to strive even to the death. 

He meant all he said. He really believed he was teach- 
ing the only way of righteousness, and so his words had a 
force that went home to people^s hearts as earnestness 
always does, and Jephthah, with tears in his eyes, began 
begging and praying his father to let him go and fight for 
the good Cause. 

“ Ay, ay,^^ said Kenton, ‘‘ against the world, the flesh, 
and the devil, and welcome, my son.^^ 

“ Then Ifil go and enlist under Captain Venn,^^ cried 
Jeph. 

“ Not so fast, my lad. AVhat I gave you leave for was 
to fight with the devil. 

“ You said the good Cause I 

“ And can you tell me which be the good Cause?^^ 

“ Why, this here, of course. Hid not you hear the Cap- 


^6 


UNDER THE STORM. 


taints good words, and see his long sword, and didn^t they 
give five marks for Croppie’s bull calf?^^ 

“Fine words butter no parsnips,^' slowly responded 
Kenton. 

“But,^^put in Steadfast,* “ butter is risen two-pence 
the pound. 

“ Very like,^^ said Kenton, “ but how can that be the 
good Cause that strips the Churches and claps godly min- 
isters into jail?^^ 

Jephthah thought he had an answer, but fathers in those 
times did not permit themselves to be argued with. 

Prices began going up still higher, for the Cavaliers 
were reported to be on their way to besiege Bristol, and 
the garrison wanted all the provisions they could lay in, 
and paid well for them. 

- When Kenton and his boys went down to market, they 
found the old walls being strengthened with earth and 
stones, and sentries watching at the gates, but as they 
brought in provisions, and were by this time well known, 
no difficulty was made about admitting them. 

One day, however, as they were returning, they saw a 
cloud of dust in the distance, and heard the sound of drums 
and fifes playing a joyous tune. Kenton drew the old mare 
behind the bank of a high hedge, and the boys watched 
eagerly through the hawthorns. 

Presently they saw the Eoyal Standard of England, 
though indeed that did not prove much, for both sides used 
it alike, but there were many lesser banners and pennons 
of lords and knights, waving on the breeze, and as the Ken- 
tons peeped down into the lane below they saw plumed 
hats, and shining corslets, and silken scarves, and hand- 
some horses, whose jingling accouterments chimed in with 
the tramp of their hoofs, and the notes of the music in 
front, while cheerful voices and laughter could be heard 
all around. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


27 


“ Oh, father! the^ be gallant fellows/^ exclaimed Jeph- 
thah. “ Will you lit*^ me go with these 

Kenton laughed a little to himself. “ Which is the 
good Cause, eh, son Jeph?^^ 

He was, however, not at all easy about the state of 
things. ‘‘ There is like to be fighting,^^ he said to Stead- 
fast, as they were busy together getting hay into the stable, 

and that makes trouble even for quiet folks that only 
want to be alone. Now, look you here,^^ and he pulled 
out a canvas bag from the corner of the bin. “ This has 
got pretty tolerably weighty of late, and I doubt me if this 
be the safest place for it.^^ 

Stead opened his eyes. The family all knew that the 
stable was used as the deposit for money, though none of 
the young folks had been allowed to know exactly where it 
was kept. There were no banks in those days, and care- 
ful people had no choice but either to hoard and hide or 
to lend their money to some one in business. 

The farmer poured out a heap of the money, all silver 
and copper, but he did not dare to wait to count it lest he 
should be interrupted. He tied up one handful, chiefly of 
pence, in the same bag, and put the rest into a bit of old 
sacking, saying, ‘‘You can get to the brook-side, to the 
place you wot of, better than I can. Stead. Take you this 
with you and put it along with the other things, and then 
you will have something to fall back on in case of need. 
Wefll put tne rest back where it was before, for it may come 
handy. 

So Steadfast, much gratified, as well as he might be, at 
the confidence bestowed on him by his father, took the bag 
with him under his smock when he went out with the cows, 
and bestowed it in a cranny not far from that in which 
that more precious trust resided. 


38 


UNDER THE STORM. 


CHAPTER V. 

DESOLATION. 

They shot him dead at the Nine Stonerig, 

Beside the headless Cross; 

An d they left him lying in his blood, 

Upon the moor and moss. 

SUKTEES. 

More and more soldiers might be seen coming down the 
roads toward the town, not by any means always looking 
as gay as that first troop. Some of the featheis were as 
draggled as the old cock’s tail after a thunder-storm, some 
reduced even to the quill, the coats looked threadbare, the 
scarves stained and frayed, the horses lean and bony. 

There was no getting into the town now, and the growl- 
ing thunder of a cannon might now and then be heard. 
Jeph would have liked to spend all his time on the hill-side 
where he could see the tents round the town, and watch 
bodies of troops come put, looking as small as toy soldiers, 
and see the clouds of smoke, sometimes the hashes a mo- 
ment or two before the report. 

He longed to go down and see the camp, taking a load 
of butter and eggs, but the neighbors told his father that 
these troops were bad pay-masters, and that there were idle 
fellows lurking about who might take his wares without so 
much as asking the price. 

However, Jeph grew suddenly eager to herd the cattle, 
because thus he had the best chance of watching the long 
lines of soldiers drawn out from the camp, and seeing the 
smoke of the guns, whose sound made poor Patience stay 
and tremble at home and hardly like to have her father 
out of her sight. 

There was worse coming. Jeph had been warned to keep 


UNDER THE STORM. 


29 


his cattle well out of sight from any of the roads, but when 
he could see the troops moving about he could not recollect 
anything else, and one afternoon Croppie strayed into the 
lane where the grass grew thick and rank, and the others 
followed her. Jeph had turned her back and was close to 
the farmstead when he heard shouts and the clattering of 
trappings. Half a dozen lean, hungry-looking troopers 
were clanking down the lane, and one called out, “ Ha! 
good luck! Just what we want! Beef and forage. Turn 
about, young bumpkin, I say. Drive your cattle into camp. 
For the King^s service. 

“ They are father’ s,^^ sturdily replied Jeph, and called 
aloud for ‘‘ Father.’^ 

He was answered with a rude shout of derision, and poor 
Croppie was pricked with the sword’s point to turn her 
away. Jeph was wild with passion, and struck back the 
sword with his stick so unexpectedly that it flew out of the 
trooper’s hand. Of course, more than one stout man in^ 
stantly seized the boy, amid howls of rage 5 and one heavy 
blow had fallen on him, when Kenton dashed forward, 
thrusting himself between his son and the uplifted arm, 
and had begun to speak, when, with the words “ You will, 
you rebel dog?” a pistol shot was fired. 

Jeph saw his father fall, but felt the grasp upon himself 
relax, and heard a voice shouting, How now, my men, 
what’s this?” 

‘‘ He resisted the King’s requisition, your Grace,” said 
one of the troopers, as a handsome lad galloped up. 

“ King’s requisition! Your own robbery. What have 
you done to the poor man, you Schlem? See here, Rupert,” 
he added, as another young man rode hastily up. 

“ Rascals! How often am I to tell you that this is not 
to be made a place for your plunder and slaughter,” thun- 
dered the new-comer, rising in his stirrups, and striking at 
the troopers with the flat of his sword, so that they fell 


30 


UNDER THE STORM. 


back with growls about “ soldiers must live,^^ and curse 
of peasants. 

The younger brother had leaped from his horse, and was 
trying to help Jephthah raise poor Kenton^s head, but it 
fell back helplessly, deaf to the screams of “ Father, fa- 
ther,' ’ with which Patience and Eusha had darted out as 
a cloud of smoke began to rise from the straw yard. Poor 
children, they screamed again at what was before them. 
Eusha ran wildly away at sight of the soldiers, but Pa- 
tience, with the baby indier arms, came up. She did not 
see her father at first, and only cried aloud to the gentle- 
men. 

“ Oh, sir, don't let them do it. If they take our cows, 
the babe will die. He has no mother!" 

“ They shall not, the villains! Brother, can nothing be’ 
done?" cried the youth, with a face of grief and horror. 
And then there was a great confusion. 

The two young officers were vehemently angry at sight 
of the fire, and shouted fierce orders to the guard of sol- 
diers who had accompanied them to endeavor to extinguish 
it, themselves doing their best, and making the men release 
Steadfast, whom they had seized upon as he was trying to 
trample out the fiame, kindled by a match from one of the 
soldiers who had scattered themselves about the yard dur- 
ing the struggle with Jephthah. 

But either the fire was too strong, or the men did not ex- 
ert themselves; it was soon plain that the house could not 
be saved, and the elder remounted, saying in German, 
“ 'Tis of no use, Maurice, we must not linger here." 

And can nothing be done?" again asked Prince Mau- 
rice. “ This is as bad as in Germany itself." 

‘‘ You are new to the trade, Maurice. You will see many 
such sights, I fear, ere we have done; though I hoped the 
English nature was more kindly. " 

Then using the word of command, sending his aids-de- 
camp, and with much shouting and calling. Prince Eupert 


tJNDEE THE STOIIM. 


31 


got the troop together again, very sulky at being balked 
of their plunder. They were all made to go out of the 
farm-yard, and ride away before him, and then the two 
princes halted where the poor children, scarce knowing 
that their home was burning behind them, were gathered 
round their father. Patience stroking his face. Ste^fast 
chafing his hands, Jephthah standing with folded arms, 
and a terrible look of grief and wrath on his face. 

“ Is there no hope?’^ asked Prince Maurice, sorrowfully. 

He is dead. That^s all,'^ muttered Jeph between his 
clinched teeth. 

“ Mark,^^ said Prince Kupert, “ this mischance is by no 
command of the King or mine. The fellow shall be 
brought to justice if you can swear to him.’^ 

“ I would have hindered it, if I could, said the other 
prince, in much slower, and more imperfect English. “ It 
grieves me much. My purse has little, but here it is. 

He dropped it on the ground while setting spurs to his 
horse to follow his brother. 

And thus the poor children were left at first in a sort of 
numb dismay after the shock, not even feeling that a heavy 
shower had begun to fall, till the baby, whom Patience had 
laid on the grass, set up a shriek. 

Then she snatched him up, and burst into a bitter cry 
herself — wailing “ father was dead, and he would die,^^ in 
broken words. Steadfast then laid a hand on her, and 
said “ He wonT die. Patience, I see Croppie there, IT get 
some milk. Take him.^^ 

There were only smoking walls, but the fire was burning 
down under the rain, and had not touched the stable, the 
wind being the other way. “Take him there,^The boy 
said. 

“ But father — we canT leave him.^^ 

Without more words Jephthah and Steadfast took the 
still form between them and bore it into the stable, the 


82 


tJNDEE THE STOEM. 


baby Screaming with hunger all the time, so that Jephthah 
hotly said— 

‘‘ Stop that! I can^t bear it/^ 

Steadfast then said he would milk the cow if Jeph would 
run to the next cottage and get help. People would come 
when' they knew the soldiers were gone. 

There was nothing but Steadfast^s leathern cap to hold 
the milk, and he felt as if his fingers had no strength to 
draw it; but when he had brought his sister enough to quiet 
little Ben, she recollected Rusha, and besought him to find 
her. She could hardly sit still and feed the little one while 
she heard his voice shouting in vain for the child, and all 
the time she was starting with the fancy that she saw her 
father move, or heard a rustling in the straw where her 
brothers had laid him. 

And when little Ben was satisfied, she was almost rent 
asunder between her unwillingness to leave unwatched all 
that was left of her father, still with that vain hope that he 
might revive, all could not have been over in such a mo- 
ment, and her terrible anxiety about her little sister. 
Could she have run back into the burning house.^ Or 
could those dreadful soldiers have killed Her too? 

Steadfast presently came back, having found some of 
the startled cattle and driven them in, but no Rusha. 
Patience was sure she could find her, aiid giving the baby 
to Steadfast ran out in the rain and smoldering smoke 
calling her; all in vain. Then she heard voices and feet, 
and in a fresh fright was about to turn again, when she 
knew Jephthah^s call. He had the child in his arms. He 
had been coming back from the village with some neigh- 
bors, when they saw the poor little thing, crouched like a 
hare in her form under a bush. No sooner did she hear 
them, than like a hare, she started up to run away; but 
stumbling over the root of a tree, she fell and lay, too 
much frightened even to scream till her brother picked her 

up. 


tJHDER THE STORM. 


33 


Kind motherly arms were about the poor girls. Old 
Goody Grace, who had been with them through their 
mother^s illness, had hobbled up on hearing the terrible 
news. She looked, like a witch, with a tall hat, short 
cloak, and nose and chin nearly meeting, but all Elmwood 
loved and trusted her, and the feeling of utter terror and 
helplessness almost vanished when she kissed and grieved 
over the orphans, and took the direction of things. She 
straightened and composed poor John Kenton’s limbs, and 
gave what comfort she could by assuring the children that 
the passage must have been well nigh without pain. 
“ And if ever there was a good man fit to be taken sud- 
denly, it was he," she added. “ He be in a happier place 
than this has been to him since your good mother was 
took.” 

‘Several of the men had accompanied her, and after some 
consultation, it was decided that the burial had better take 
place that very night, even though there was no time to 
make a coffin. 

‘‘ Many an honest man will be in that same case,” said 
Harry Blane, the smith, “if they come to blows down 
there.” 

“ And He to Whom he is gone will not ask whether he 
lies in a coffin, or has the prayers said over him,” added 
Goody, “ though ’tis pity on him too, for he always was a 
man for churches and parsons and prayers. ’ ’ 

“Vain husks, said the pious captain,” put in Oates. 

“ Well,” said Harry Blane, “ those could hardly be vain 
husks that made John Kenton what he was. Would that 
the good old times were back again ; when a sackless man 
could not be shot down at his own door for nothing at all.” 

Eeverently and carefully John Kenton’s body was borne 
to the church-yard, where he was laid in the grave beside 
his much loved wife. Ko knell was rung; Elmwood, ly- 
ing far away over the hill-side in the narrow wooded valley 

with the river between it and the camp, had not yet been 
2 


34 


UNDEE THE STOEM. 


visited by any of the Royalist army, but a midnight toll 
might have attracted the attention of some of the lawless 
stragglers. Nor did any one feel capable of uttering a 
prayer aloud, and thus the only sound at that strange, sad 
funeral was the low boom of the midnight gun fired in the 
beleaguered city. 

Then Patience with Rusha and the baby were taken 
home by kind old Goody Grace, while the smith called the 
two lads into his house. 


CHAPTER VI. 

LEFT TO THEMSELVES. 

One look he cast upon the bier, 

Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, 

Then, like the high-bred colt when freed 
First he essays his fire and speed, 

He vanished — 

Scott. 

Steadfast was worn and wearied out with grief and 
slept heavily, knowing at first that his brother was tossing 
about a good deal, but soon losing all perception, and not 
waking till on that summer morning the sun had made 
some progress in the sky. 

Then he came to the sad recollection of the last dread- 
ful day, and knew that he was lying on Master Blane’s 
kitchen floor. He picked himself up, and at the same mo- 
ment heard Jephthah calling him from the outside. 

“ Stead, he said, ‘‘ I am going!” 

“ Going!” said poor Stead, half asleep. 

“ Yes. I shall never rest till I have had a shot at those 
barbarous German princes and the rest of the villains. My 
father^s blood cries to me from the ground for vengeance.” 

“ Would father have said like thatF^^ said the boy, be- 
wildered, but conscious of something defective, though 
these were Bible words. 


UNDEE THE STOEM. 


35 


“ That^s not the point! Captain Venn called everj^ 
man to take the sword and hew down the wicked, and slay 
the ungodly and the murderers. I will!” cried Jeph, 
“ none shall withhold me.” 

He had caught more phrases from these fiery preachers 
than he himself knew, and they broke forth in this time of 
excitement. 

“ But, Jeph, what is to become of us? The girls, and 
the little one! You are the only one- of us who can do a 
man^s work.^'’ 

“ I could not keep you together!” said Jeph. “Our 
house burnt by those accursed sons of Belial, all broken 
up, and only a lubber like you to help! No, Goody Grace 
or some one will take in the- girls for what^s left of the 
stock, and you can soon find a place — a strong fellow like 
you; Master Blane might take you and make a smith of 
you, if you be not too slow and clumsy.^' 

“ But Jeph—” 

“ Withhold me not. Is it not written — ” 

“ I wish you would not say is it not written,” broke in 
Stead, “ I know it is, but you don't say it right.” 

“ Because you are yet in darkness,” said Jeph, con- 
temptuously. . “ Hold your tongue. I must be oft at 
once. Market folk can get into the town by the low lane 
out there, away from the camp of the spoilers, early in the 
morning, and I must hasten to enlist under Captain Venn. 
No, don't call the wenches, they would but strive to daunt 
my spirit in the holy work of vengeance on the blood-thirsty, 
and I can't abide tears and whining. See here, I found 
this in the corn bin. I'm poor father's heir. You won t 
want money, and I shall; so I shall take it, but I'll come 
back and make all your fortunes when I am a captain or a 
colonel. I wonder this is not more. We got a heap of 
late. May be father hid it somewhere else, but 'tis no use 
seeking now. If you light upon it you are welcome to do 
what you will with it. Fare thee well. Steadfast. Do the 


36 


Ul?^DER THE STOEM. 


best you can for the wenches, but a call is laid on me! I 
have vowed to avenge the blood that was shed/^ 

He strode off into the steep woodland path that clothed 
the hill-side, and Steadfast looked after him, and felt more 
utterly deserted than before. Then he looked up into the 
sky, and tried to remember what was the promise to the 
fatherless children. That made him wonder whether the 
Bible and Prayer-book had been burnt, and then his morn- 
ing^ s duty of providing milk for the little ones^ breakfast 
pressed upon him. He took up a pail of Mrs. Blane^s 
which he thought he might borrow and went off in search 
of the cows. So, murmuring the Lord^s Prayer as he 
walked, and making the resolution not to be dragged away 
from his trust in the cavern, nor to forsake his little sister 
— he heard the lowing of the cows as he went over the hill, 
and found them staging at the gate of the fold yard, wait- 
ing to be eased of their milk. Poor creatures, they seemed 
so glad to welconie him that it was the first thing that 
brought tears to his eyes, and they came with such a rush 
that he had much ado to keep them from dropping into 
the pail as he leaned his head against Croppie’s ruddy side. 

There was a little smoldering smoke; but the rain had 
checked the fire, and though, the roof of. the house was 
gone and it . looked ‘frightfully dreary and wretched, the 
walls were still standing and the pigs were grunting about 
the place. However, Steadfast did not stop to see what 
was left within, as he knew Ben would be crying for food, 
but he carried his foaming pail back to Goody Grace^s as 
fast as he could, after turning out the cows on the com- 
mon, not even stopping to count the sheep that were 
straggling about. 

His sisters were watching anxiously froip the door of 
Goody Grace^s hovel, and eagerly cried out, “ Whereas 
Jeph?^^ 

Then he had to tell them that Jeph was gone for a 
soldier, to have his revenge for his father’s death, 


UNDER THE STORM. 37 

“ Jeph gone, too!^^ said poor Patience, looking pale. 
“ Oh, what shall we ever do?^^ 

‘‘ He did not think of that. I’ll warrant, the selfish fel- 
low,” said Goody Grace. That’s the way with lads, 
naught but themselves.” 

“ It was because of what they did to poor father,” re- 
plied Stead. 

“ And if he, or the folks he is gone to, call that the 
Christian religion, ’tis more than I do!” rejoined the old 
woman. “ I wish I had met him, I’d have given him a 
bit of my mind about going off to his revenge, as he calls 
it, without ever a thought what was to become of his own 
flesh and blood here. ” 

“ He did say I might go to service (not that I shall), and 
that some one would take you in for the cattle’s sake. ” 

“ Oh, don’t do that. Stead,” cried Patience, don’t let 
us part!” He had only gust time to answer, “No such 
thing,” for people were coming about them by this time, 
one after another emerging from the cottages that stood 
around the village green. The women were all hotly 
angry with Jeph for going off and leaving his young 
brothers and sisters to shift for themselves. 

“ He was ever an idle fellow,” said one, “ always run- 
ning after the soldiers and only wanting an excuse.” 

“ Best thing he could do for himself or them,” growled 
old Green. 

“Eh! What, Gaffer Green! To go off without a word 
or saying by your leave to his poor little sister before his 
good father be cold in his grave,” exclaimed a whole 
clamor of voices.” 

“ Belike he knew what a cTack of women’s tongues there 
would be, and would fain be out of it,” replied the old 
man, shrewdly. 

It was a clamor that oppressed poor Patience and made 
her feel sick with sorrow and noise. Everybody meant to 
J)e very kind and jpitiful, but there was a great deal too 


38 


UNDEE THE STOKM. 


much of it, and they felt quite bewildered by the offers 
made them. Farmer Milffs wife, of Elmwood Cross, two 
miles off, was reported by her sister to want a stout girl to 
help her, but there was no chance of her taking Eusha or 
the baby as well as Patience. Goody Grace could not 
undertake the care of Ben unless she could have Patience, 
because she was so often called away from home, nor could 
she support them without the cows. Smith Blane might 
’ have taken Stead, but his wife would not hear of being 
troubled with Eusha. And Dame Oates might endure 
Eusha for the sake of a useful girl like Patience, but cer- 
tainly not the baby. It was an utter Babel and confusion, 
and in the midst of it all. Patience crept up to her brother 
who stood all the time like a stock, and said, Oh! Stead, 
I can not give up Ben to any one. Can not we all keep 
together?’^ 

Hush, Patty! That^s whaj I mean to do, if you will 
stand by me,^^ he whispered, “ wait till all the clack is 
over. 

And there he waited with Patience by his side while the 
parish seemed to be endlessly striving over them. If one 
woman seemed about to make a proposal, half a dozen 
more fell on her and vowed that the poor orphans would 
be starved and overworked; till she turned on the foremost' 
with: “ And hadn’t your poor ’prentice lad to go before 
the justices to show the weals on his back?” “ Ay, Joan 
Stubbs, and what are you speaking up for but to get the 
poor children’s sheep? Hey, you now. Stead Kenton — 
lackaday, where be they?” 

For while the dispute was at its loudest and hottest. 
Stead had taken Eusha by the hand, made a sign to Pa- 
tience, and the four deserted children had quietly gone 
away together into the copse-wood that led to the little 
glen where the brook ran, and where was the cave that 
Steadfast looked on as his special charge. Eusha, fright- 
ened by the loud voices and angry gestures, had begun to 


UNDER THE STORM. 


‘ 39 


Cry, and beg she might not be given to any one, but stay 
with her Patty and Stead. 

And so you shall, my pretty,^^ said Steadfast, sitting 
down on the stump of a tree and taking her on his knee, 
while Toby nuzzled up to them. 

“ Then you think we can go on keeping ourselves, and 
not letting them part us,^^ said Patience, earnestly. “ I 
have done the housejwork all this time, -and we have the 
fields, and all the beasts. We have only lost the house, 
and I could never bear to live there again,^^ she added, 
with a shudder. 

“ iso,^^ said Steadfast, ‘‘it is too near the road while 
these savage fellows are about. Besides — and there he 
checked himself, and added, “ ITl tell you, Patty. Do 
you remember the old stone cot down there in the wood?^^ 
“ Where the old herhiit lived in the blind Popish timesP^ 
“ Ay. WefilTive there. No soldiers will ever find us 
out there, Patty. 

“Oh! oh! that is good,^^ said Patience. “ We shall 
like that, sha^nT we, Eusha?^^ 

“And,” added Steadfast, “there is an old cow-shed 
against the rock down there, where we could harbor the 
beasts, for Tis them that the soldiers are most after. 

“ Let us go down to it at once,^^ cried the girl, joyfully. 
But Steadfast thought it would be wiser to go first to the 
ruins of their home; before, as he said, any one else did so, 
to see what could be saved therefrom. 

Patience shrunk from the spectacle, and Eusha hung 
upon her, saying the soldiers would be there, and begin- 
ning to cry. At that moment, however, Tom Oateses 
voice came near shouting for “ Stead! Stead Kenton !^^ 

“ Come on. Stead. YouTP be ^prentice lad to’ Dick 
Stiggins, the tailor, if so be you bring Whitefoot and the 
geese for your fee; and Goodman Bold will have the big 
wench; and Goody Grace will make shift with the littlo 
ones, provided she has the kine!” 


40 


Ulrt)EE THE STOR^^ 


“ We don^t mean to be beholden to none of them/^ said 
Steadfast, sturdily, with his hands in his pockets. We 
mean to keep what belongs to us, and work for our- 
seWes.’^ 

And God will help us," Patience added, softly. 

“ Ho, ho!" cried Tom, and proud of having found 
them, he ran before them back to the village green, and 
roared out, “ Here they be! And they say as how they 
don't want none of you, but will keep themselves. Ha! 
ha!" 

Any one who saw those four young orphans would not 
have thought their trying to keep^hemselves a laughing 
matter; and the village folk, who had been just before so 
unwilling to undertake them, now began scolding and 
blaming them for their folly and ingratitude. 

Nothing indeed makes people so ahgry as when a kind- 
ness which has cost them a great effort turns out not to be 
wanted. 

‘‘ Look for nothing from us," cried Dame Bold, “ I'd 
have made a good .housewife of you, you ungrateful hussy, 
and now you may thank yourself, if you come to begging, 
I shall have nothing for you." 

‘‘ Beggary and rags," repeated the tailor. ‘‘ Ay, ay; 
'tis all very fine strolling about after the sheep with your 
hands in your pockets in summer weather, but you'll sing 
another song in winter-time, and be sorry you did not 
know when you had a good offer." 

“ The babe will die as sure as 'tis born," added John 
Oates. 

“ If they be not all slain by the mad Prince's troopers 
up in that place by the road -side," said another. 

BlacTismith Blane and Gdody Grace were in the mean- 
time asking the children what they meant to do, and Stead 
told them in a few words. Goody Grace shook her head 
over little Ben, but Blane declared that after all it might 
be the best thing they could do to keep their land and 


UNDER THE STORM. 


41 


beasts together. Ten to one that foolish lad Jephthah 
would come back with his tail between his legs, and though 
it would s^ve him right, what would they do if all were 
broken up? Then he slapped Stead on the back, called 
him a sensible, steady lad, and promised always to be his 
friend. 

Moreover he gave up his morning^s work to come with 
the children to their homestead, and see what could be 
saved. It was a real kindness, not only because his pro- 
tection made Patience much less afraid to go near the 
place, and his strong arm would be a great help to them, 
but because he was parish constable and had authority to 
drive away the rough lads whom they found already hang- 
ing about the ruins, and who had frightened Patience^s 
poor cat up into the ash-tree. 

The boys and two curs were dancing round the tree, and 
one boy was stripping oif his smock to cUmb up and throw 
poor pussy down among them when Master Blane^s angry 
shout and flourished staff put them all to flight, and Pa- 
tience and Kusha begun to coax the cat to come down to 
them. 

Hunting her had had one good effect, it had occupied 
the boys and prevented them from carrying anything off. 
The stable was safe. What had been burned was the hay- 
rick, whence the flames had climbed to the house. The 
roof had fallen in, and the walls and chimney stood up 
blackened and dismal, but there was a good deal of stone 
about the house, the roof was of shingle, and the heavy 
fall, together with the pouring rain, had done much to 
choke the fire, so that when Blane began to throw aside 
the charred bits of beams and of the upper floor, more 
proved to be unburned, or at least only singed, than could 
have been expected. 

The great black iron pot still hung in the chimney with 
the very meal and kail broth that Patience had been boil- 
ing in it, and Eusha's little stool stood by the- hearth. 


42 


UNDER THE STORM. 


Then the great chest, or ark as Patience called it, where 
all the Sunday clothes were kept, had been crushed in and 
the upper things singed, but all below was safe. ^ The beds 
and bedding were gone; but then the best bed had been 
only a box in the wall with an open side, and the others 
only chaff or straw stuffed into a sack. 

Patience^s crocks, trenchers, and cups were gone too, all 
except one horn mug; but two knives and some spoons 
were extracted from the ashes. Furniture jvas much more 
scanty everywhere than now. There was not much to lose, 
and of that they had lost less than they had feared. 

“ And see here, Stead,^^ said Patience, joyfully, holding 
up a lesser box kept within the other. 

^ It contained her mother’s Bible and Prayer-book. The 
covers were turned up, a little warped by the heat, and 
some of the corners of the leaves were browned, but other- 
wise they were unhurt. 

“ I was in hopes ’twas the money-box,” said Blane. 

“ Jeph has got the bag,” said Patience. 

“ More shame for him,” growled their friend. 

Steadfast did not think^t necessary to say that was not 
all the hoard. 

Another thing about which Patience was very anxious * 
was the meal chest. With much difficulty they reached it. 
It had been broken in by the fall of the roof, and some of 
the contents were scattered, but enough was gathered up 
in a pail fetched from the stable to last for some little 
time. There were some eggs likewise in the nests, and 
altogether Goodman Blane allowed that, if the young Ken- 
tons could t^ke care of themselves, and keep things to- 
gether, they had decided for the best; if they could, that 
was to say. And he helped them to carry their heavier 
things to the glen. He wanted to see if it were fit for their 
habitation, but Steadfast was almost sorry to show any one 
the way, in spite of his trust and gratitude to the blacksmith. 

However, of course, it was not possible to keep this 


tTNBER TJTE STORM. 


43 


strange hiding-place a secret, so he led the way by the path 
the cattle had trodden out through the brushwood to the 
open space where they drank, and where stood the hermit’s 
hut, a dreary-looking den built of big stones, and with 
rough slates covering it. There was a kind of hole for the 
door-way, and another for the smoke to get out at. Blane 
whistled with dismay at the sight of it, and told Stead he 
could not take the children to such a place. 

‘‘We will get it better,” said Stead. 

“That we will,” returned Patience, who felt anything 
better than being separated from her brother. 

“ It is weather tight,” added Stead, “ and when it is 
cleaned out you will see!” 

“ And the soldiers will never find it,” added Patience. 

“ There is something in that,” said Blane. “ But at 
any rate, though it be summer, you can never sleep there 
to-night.” 

“ The girls can not,” said Stead, “ but I shall, to look 
after things.” 

These were long days, and by the evening many of the 
remnants of household stuff had been brought, the cows 
and Whitefoot had been tied up in their dilapidated shed, 
with all the hay Stead could gather together to make them 
feel at home. There was a hollow under the rock where 
he hoped to keep the pigs, but neither they nor the sheep 
could be brought in at present. They must take their 
chance, the sheep on the moor, the pigs grubbing about 
the ruins of the farm-yard. The soldiers must be too busy 
for marauding, to judge by the constant firing that had 
gone on all day, the sharp rattle of the muskets, and now 
and then the grave roll of a cannon. 

Stead had been too busy to attend, but half the village 
had been watching from the height, which accounted per- 
haps for the move from the farm having been so uninter- 
rupted after the first. 

It was not yet dark, when, tired out by his day’s hard 


44 


tJNDEE THE STORM^ 


work, stead sat himself dowa at the opening of his hut 
with Toby by his side. The evening gold of the sky could 
hardly be seen through the hazel and mountain-ash bushes 
that clothed the steep opposite bank of the glen and gave 
him a feeling of security. The brook rippled along below, 
plainly to be heard since all other sounds had ceased except 
the purring of a night-jar and the cows chewing their cud. 
There was a little green glade of short grass sloping down 
to the stream from the hut where the rabbits were* at play, 
but on each side the trees and brushwood were thick, with 
only a small path through, much overgrown, and behind 
the rock rose like a wall, overhung with ivy and traveler’s 
joy. Only one who knew the place could have found the 
shed among the thicket where the cows were fastened, far 
less the cavern half-way up the side of the rock where 
lay the treasures for which Steadfast was a watchman. 
He thought for a moment of seeing if all were safe, but 
then decided, like a wise boy, that to disturb the creepers, 
and wear a path to the place, was the M^orst thing he could 
do if he wished for concealment. He had had his supper 
at the village and had no more to do, and, after the long 
day of going to and fro, even Toby was too much tired to 
worry the rabbits, though he had had no heavy weights to 
carry. Perhaps, indeed, the poor dog had no spirits to in- 
terfere with their sports, as they sat upright, jumped over 
one another, and flashed their little white tails. He missed 
his old master, and knew perfectly well that his young 
master was in trouble and distress, as he crept close up to 
the boy’s breast, and looked up in his face. Stead’s hand 
patted the rough, wiry hair, and there was a sort of com- 
fort in the creature’s love. But how hard it was to believe 
that only yesterday he had a father and a home, and that 
now his elder brother was gone, and he had the great 
charge on him of being the mainstay of the three younger 
ones, as well as of protecting that treasure in the cavern 
which his father had so solemnly intrusted to him. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


45 


The boy knelt down to say his prayers, and as he did so, 
all alone in the darkening wood, the words, “ Father of 
the fatherless. Helper of the helpless, came to his aid. 


CHAPTER VIL 

THE HERMIT GULLY. 

^ O Bessie Bell and Mary Grey, 

They were twa honnie lasses — 

They bigged a bower on yonder brae, 

And theek’d it o’er wi’ rashes. 

Ballad. 

Steadfast slept soundly on the straw with Toby curled 
up by his side till the morning light was finding its way in 
through all the chinks of his rude little hovel. 

When he had gathered his recollections he knew how 
much there was to be done. He sprung to his feet, show- 
ing himself still his good mothers own boy by kneeling 
down to his short prayer, then taking off the clothes in 
which he had slept, and giving himself a good bath in the 
pool under the bush of wax-berried guelder rose, and as 
good a wash as he could without soap. 

Then he milked the cows, for happily his own buckets 
had been at the stable and thus were safe. He had just 
released Croppie and seen her begin her breakfast on the 
grass, when Patience in her little red hood came tripping 
through the glen with a broom over her shoulder, and 
without the other children. Goody Grace had undertaken 
to keep them for the day, whilst Patience worked with her 
brother, and had further lent her the broom till she could 
make another, for all the country brooms of that time 
were home-made with the heather and the birch. She had 
likewise brought a barley cake, on which and on the milk 
the pair made their breakfast. Goody providing for the lit- 
tle ones. 


46 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“We must use it up/^ said Patience, “ for we have got 
no churn. ^ ^ 

“ And we could not get into the town to sell the butter 
if we had,^^ returned her brother. “We had better take 
it up4o some one in the village who might give us some- 
thing for it, bread or cheese may be.’^ 

“I would like to make my own butter,^ ^ sighed Pa- 
tience, whose mother^ s cleanly habits had made her famous 
for it. 

“So you shall some day, Patty, said her '‘brother, 
“but there^s no getting into Bristol to buy one or to sell 
butter now. Hark! they are beginning again,^^ as the 
growl of a heavy piece of cannon shook the ground. 

“I wonder where our Jeph is, said the little girl, 
sadly. “ How could he like to go among all those cruel 
fighting men? You won^t go. Stead ?’^ 

“ No, indeed, I have got something else to do.^^ 

The children were hard at work all the time. They 
cleared out the inside of their hovel, which had a floor of 
what was called lime ash, trodden hard, and not much 
cracked. Probably other hermits in earlier times had 
made the place habitable before the expelled monk whom 
the Kentons^ great-grandfather recollected; for the cell, 
though rude, was wonderfully strong, and the stone walls 
were very stout and thick, after the fashion of the middle 
ages. There was a large flat stone to serve as a hearth, 
and an opening at the top for the smoke with a couple of 
big slaty stones bent toward one another over it as a break 
to the force of the rain. The children might have been 
worse off though there was no window, and no door to close 
the opening. That mattered the less in the summer 
weather, and before winter came. Stead thought he could 
close it' with a mat made of the bulrushes that stood up in 
the brook, lifting their tall, black heads. 

Straw must serve for their beds till they could get some 
sacking to stuff it into, and as some of the sheep would 


UNDER THE ^TORM. 


47 


have to be killed and salted for the winter, the skins would 
serve for warmth. Patience arranged the bundles of straw 
with a neat bit of plaiting round them, at one corner of 
the room for herself and Rusha, at the opposite one for 
Stead. For the present they must sleep in their clothes. 

Life was always so rough, and, to present notions, com- 
fortless, that all this was not nearly so terrible to the 
farmer^s daughter of two centuries ago as it would be to 
a girl of the present day. Indeed, save for the grief for 
the good father, the sense of which now and then rushed 
on them like a horrible, too true dream. Steadfast and Pa- 
tience would almost have enjoyed the setting up for them- 
selves and all their contrivances. Some losses, however, 

■ besides that of the churn were very great in their eyes. 
Patience’s spinning-wheel especially, and the- tools, scythe, 
hook, and spade, all of which had been so much damaged, 
that Smith Plane had shaken his head over them as past 
mending. 

Perhaps, however. Stead might borrow and get those 
made for him. As to th^ wheel, that must, like the 
churn, wait till the siege was over. 

“•But will not those deadful men burn the town down 
and not leave one stone on another, if Jeph and the rest of 
them don’t keep them out?” asked Patience. 

“ No,” said Stead. “ That is not the way in these days 
— at least not always. So poor father said last time we 
went into Bristol, when he had been talking to the butter- 
merchant’s man. He said the townsfolk would know the 
reason why, if the soldiers were for holding out long 
enough to get them into trouble.” 

“ Then perhaps there will not be much fighting and 
they will not hurt Jeph,” said Patience, to whom Jeph 
w*as the whole war. 

“ There’s no firing to-day. May be they are making 
it uj),” said Steadfast. 

“I never heeded,” said Patience, “we have been so 


48 


UNDER THE STORM. 

busy! But Stead, how shall we get the things? We have 
no money. Shall we sell a sheep or a pig?^' 

Stead looked very knowing, and she exclaimed, ‘‘ Have 
you any. Stead? I thought Jeph took it all away.^^ 

Then Stead told her how his father had intrusted him 
with the bulk of the savings, in case of need, and had 
made it over to the use of the younger ones. 

‘‘It was well you did not know, Patty, he added. 
“ You told no lie, and Jeph might have taken it all.” 

“ Oh! he would not have been so cruel,^' cried Patience. 
“ He would not want Rusha and Ben to have nothing.” 

Stead did not feel sure, and when Patience asked him 
where the hoard was, he shook his head, looked wise, and 
would not tell her. And then he warned her, with all his 
might and main against giving a hint to any one that they 
had any such fund in reserve. She Nvas a little vexed and 
hurt at first, but presently she promised. 

“ Indeed, Stead, I won’t say one word about it, and you 
don’t think I would ever touch it without telling you. ” 
“Ho, Patty, you wouldn’t, but don’t you see, if you 
know nothing, you can’t tell if people ask you. ” 

In truth. Stead was less anxious about the money than 
about the other treasure, and when presently Patience pro- 
IDOsed that the cave where they used to play should serve 
for the poultry, so as to save them from the foxes and pole- 
cats, he looked veiy grave and said, “ Ho, no, Patty, don’t 
you ever tell any one of that hole, nor let Rusha see it.” 

“Oh! I know then!” cried Patience, with a little laugh, 
“ I know what’s there then.” 

“ There’s more than that, sister,” and therewith Stead 
told in her ear of the precious deposit. 

She looked very grave, and said, “ Why then it is just 
like church! Oh, no. Stead, I’ll never tell till good Mr. 
Holworth comes back. Could not we say our prayers there 
on Sundays?” 

Stead liked the thought, but shook his head. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


49 


“ We must not wear a path up to the place,^^ he said^ 
“ nor show the little ones the way.^^ 

“ I shall say mine as near as I can/^ said Patience. 
‘‘ And I shall ask God to help us keep it sa^fe.’^; 

Then the children became absorbed in seeking for a 
place where their fowls could find safe shelter from the 
enemies that lurked in the wood, and ended by an attempt 
of Stead’s to put up some perches across the beam above 
the cow-shed. 

Things were forward enough for Rusha and Ben to be 
fetched down to their new home that night; when Patience 
went to fetch them, she heard that the cessation of firing 
had really been because the troops within the town were 
going to surrender to the King’s soldiers outside. 

“ Then there will be no more fighting,” she anxiously 
asked of Master Blane. 

“ No man can tell,” he answered. 

“ And will Jeph come back?” 

But that he could tell as little, and indeed some one else 
spoke to him, and he paid the child no more attention. 

Rusha had had a merry day among the children of her 
own age in the village; she fretted at coming away, and 
was^ frightened at turning into so lonely a path through 
the hazel stems, trotting after Patience because she was 
afraid to turn back alone, but making a low, peevish moan 
all the time. 

Patience hoped she would be comforted when they came 
out on their little glade, and she saw Stead stirring the 
milk porridge over the fire he had lighted by the house. 
For he had found the flint and steel belonging to the 
matchlock of his father’s old gun, and there was plenty of 
dry leaves and half-burned wood to serve as tinder. The 
fire for cooking would be outside, whenever warmth and 
weather served, to prevent in-door smoke. And to 
Patience’s eyes it really looked pleasant and comfortable, 
with Toby sitting wisely by his young master’s side, and 


50 


UNDER THE STORM. 


the cat coniforta,bly perched at the door, and Whitefoot 
tied to a tree, and the cows in their new abode. But 
Jerusha was tired and cross, she said it was an ugly place, 
and she was afraid of the foxes and the polecats, she wanted 
to go home, she wanted to go back to Goody Grace. 

Stead grew angry, and threatened that she should have 
no supper, and that made her cry the louder, and shake 
her frock at him; but Patience, who knew better how to 
deal with her, let her finish her cry, and come creeping 
back, promising to be good, and glad to eat the supper, 
which was wholesome enough, though very smoky: how- 
ever, the children were used to smoke, and did not mind it. 

They said their prayers together while the sun was 
touching the tops of the trees, crept into their hut, curled 
themselves up, upon their straw and went to sleep, while 
Toby lay watchful at the door, and the cat prowled about 
in quest of a rabbit or some other evening wanderer for 
her supper. • 

The next day Patience spent in trying to get things into 
somewhat better order, and Steadfast in trying to gather 
together his live stock, which he had been forced to leave 
to take care of themselves. Horse, donkey, and cows were 
all safe round their hut; but he could find only three of 
the young pigs and the old sow at the farm-yard, and it 
plainly was not safe to leave them there, though how to 
pen them up in their new quarters he did not know. 

The sheep were out on -the moor, and only one of them 
seemed to be missing. The goat and the geese had like- 
wise taken care of themselves and seemed glad to see him. 
He drove them down to their new home, and fed them 
there with some of the injured meal. “ But what can we 
do with the pigs? There^s no place they canT get out of 
but this,^^ said Stead, looking doubtfully. 

“ Ho you think I would have pigs in here? Ho, I am 
not come to that!^^ 

It ended in Sl^ad^s ^oing to consult Master Blane, who 


UKBER THE STORM. 


61 


advised that the yoimger pigs should be either sold, or 
killed and salted, and nothing left but the sow, who was 
a cunning old animal, and could pretty well take care of 
herself, besides that she was so tough and lean that one 
must be very hungry indeed to he greatly tempted by her 
bristles. 

But how sell the pigs or buy the salt in such days as 
these? There was, indeed, no firing. There was a belief 
that treaties were going on, but leisure only left the be- 
siegers more free to go wandering about in search of 
plunder; and Stead found all trouble saved him as to dis- 
posing of his pigs. They were quite gone next time he 
looked for them, and the poor old sow had been lamed by 
a shot; but did not seem seriously hurt, and when with 
some difficulty she had been persuaded to be driven into 
the glen, she seemed likely to be willing to stay there in 
the corner of the cattle shed. 

The children were glad enough to be in their glen, with 
all its bareness and discomfort, when they heard that a 
troop of horse had visited Elmwood, and made a requisi- 
tion there for hay and straw. They had used no violence, 
but the farmers were compelled to take it into the camp in 
their own wagons, getting nothing in payment but orders 
on the treasury, which might as well be waste paper. 
And, indeed, they were told by the soldiers that they 
might be thankful to get off with their carts and hb^ses. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


STEAD IN POSSESSION. 

At night returning, every labor sped, 

He sits him down, the monarch of a shed. 

Goldsmith, 

Another day made it certain that the garrison of Bris- 
tol had surrendered to the besiegers. A few shots were 
heard, but they were only fired in rejoicing by the Royal- 


53 


UNDER THE STORM. 


ists, and while Steadfast was studying his barley field, 
already silvered over by its long beards, and wondering 
how soon it would be ripe, and how he should get it cut 
and stacked, his name was shouted out, and he saw Tom 
Oates and all the rest of the boys scampering down the 
lane. 

“ Come along, Stead Kenton, come on and see the Par- 
liament soldiers come out and go by. 

Poor Steadfast had not much heart for watching soldiers, 
but it struck him that he might see or hear something of 
Jephthah, so he came with the other boys to the bank, 
where from behind a hedge they could look down at the 
ranks of soldiers as they marched along, five abreast, the 
road was not wide enough to hold more. They had been 
allowed to keep their weapons, so the officers had their 
swords, and the men carried their muskets. Most of them 
looked dull and dispirited, and the officers had very 
gloomy, displeased faces. In fact, they were very angry 
with their commander. Colonel ISennes, for having sur- 
rendered so easily, and he was afterward brought to a 
court-martial for having done so. 

Stead did not understand this, he thought only of look- 
ing under each steel cap or tall, slouching hat for Jeph- 
thah. Several times a youthful, slender figure raised his 
hopes, and disappointed him, and he began to wonder 
whether Jeph could have after all stayed behind in, the 
town, or if he could have been hurt and was ill there. 

By and by came a standard, bearing a Bible lying on a 
sword, and behind it rode a grave-looking officer, with long 
hair, and a red scarf, whom the lads recognized as the 
same who had preached at Elmwood. His men were in 
better order than some of the others, and as Steadfast 
eagerly watched them, he was sure that he knew the turn 
of Jeph^s head, in spite of his being in an entirely new suit 
of clothes, and with a musket over his shoulder. 

Stead shook the ash stem he was leaning against, the 


tJKDER THE STORM. 


63 


men looked up, he saw the well- known face, and called 
out, “ Jeph! Jeph!^^ But some of the others laugh, Jeph 
frowned and shook his head, and marched on. Stead was 
disappointed, but at any rate he could carry back the as- 
surance to Patience that Jeph was alive and well, though 
he seemed to have lost all care for his brothers and sisters. 
Yet, perhaps, as a soldier he could not help it, and it 
might not be safe to straggle from the ranks. 

There was no more fighting for the present in the neigh- 
borhood. The princes and their army departed, only 
leaving a garrison to keep the city, and it was soon known 
in the village that the town was in its usual state, and that 
it was safe to go in to market as in former times. Stead 
accordingly carried in a basket of eggs, which was all he 
could yet sell. He was ferried across the river, and made 
his way in. It was strange to find the streets looking ex- 
actly as usual, and the citizens^ wives coming out with 
their baskets, just as if nothing had happened. 

There was the good-natured face of Mistress Lightfoot, 
who kept a baker^s shop at the sign of the Wheatsheaf, 
and was their regular customer. 

“ Ha, little Kenton, be^st thou there? I^m right glad 
to see thee. They said the mad fellows had burned the 
farm, and made an end of all of you, but I find ^em civil 
enow, and I^m happy to see Twas all leasing-making.’^ 

“It is true, mistress,” said Stead, “that they burned 
our house and shot poor father.” 

•“ Eh, you don’t say so, my poor lad?” and she hurried 
her kind questions, tears coming into her eyes, as she 
thought of the orphans deserted by their brother. She 
was very anxious to have Patience butter-making again 
and promised to come with Stead to give her assistance in 
choosing both a churn and a spinning-wheel if he would 
come in the next day, for he -had not ventured on bringing 
any money with him. She bought all his eggs for her 
lodger, good Doctor Eales, who could hardly taste any- 


64 


vmm THE STOllM. 


thing and had been obliged to live cooped up in an inner 
chamber for fear of the Parliament soldiers, who were mis- 
behaved to Church ministers though civil enough to wom- 
en; while these new-comers were just the other way, hat 
in hand to a clergyman, but apt to be saucy to the lasses. 
But she hoped the doctor would cheer up again, now that 
the Cathedral was set in order, so far as might be, and 
prayers were said there as in old times. In fact the bells 
were ringing for morning prayer, and Stead was so glad to 
hear them that he thought he might venture in and join 
in the brief daily service. There were many others who 
had done so, for these anxious days had quickened the de- 
votion of many hearts, and people had felt what it was to 
be robbed of their churches and forbidden the use of their 
prayer-books. Moreover, some had sons or brothers or 
husbands fighting on the one side or the other, and were 
glad to pray for them, so that Stead found himself in the 
midst of quite a congregation, though the choir had been 
too much dispersed and broken up for the musical service, 
and indeed the organ had been torn to pieces by the Puri- 
tan soldiers, who fancied it was Popish. 

But Stead found himself caring for the Psalms and 
Prayers in a manner he had never done before, and which 
came of the sorrow he had felt and the troubles that 
pressed upon him. He fancied all would come right now, 
and that soon Mr. Holworth would be back, and he should 
be able to give up his charge; and he went home, quite 
cheered up. 

When he came into the gully he heard voices through 
the bushes, and pressing forward anxiously he saw Blane 
and Oates before the hovel door. Patience standing there 
crying, with the baby in her arms, and Kusha holding her 
apron, and an elderly man whom Stead knew as old Lady 
Elmwood ^s steward talking to the other men, who seemed 
to be persuading him to something. 

As soon as Stead appeared, the other children ran up to 


UNDER THE STORM. 


55 


him, and Rusha hid herself behind him, while Patience 
said, “ Oh, Stead, Stead, he has come to turn us all out! 
Don^t let himT^ 

“ Nay, Ray, little wench, not so fast,^^ said the steward, 
not unkindly. “ I am but come to look after my lady^s 
interests, seeing that we heard your poor father was dead, 
God have mercy on his soul (touching his hat reverently), 
and his son gone* off to the wars, and nothing but a pack 
of children left.-’^ 

“ But ^tis all poor father’s, muttered Stead, almost 
diimfounded. 

“It is held under the manor of Elmwood,” explained 
the steward, “ on the tenure of the delivery of the prime 
beast on the land on the demise of lord or tenant, and 
three days’ service in hay and harvest time.” 

What this meant Steadfast and Patience knew as little 
as did Rusha or Ben, but Goodman Blane explained. 

“ The land here is all held under my Lady and Sir 
George, Stead — mine just the same — no rent paid, but if 
there’s a death^ — landlord or tenant — one has to give the 
best beast as a fee, besides the work in harvest. ” 

; “And the question is,’’ proceeded the steward, “ who 
and what is there to look to. The eldest son is but a lad, 
if he were here, and this one is a mere child, and the house 
is burned down, and here they be, crouching in a hovel, 
and how is it to be with the land. I’m bound to look after 
the land. I’m bound to look after my Lady’s interest and 
Sir George’s.” 

“ Be they ready to build up the place if you had another 
tenant?” asked Blane, signing to Stead to hold his peace. 

“ Well — hum — ha! It might not come handy just now, 
seeing that Sir George is off with the King, and all the 
money and plate with him and most of the able-bodied 
servants, but I’m the more bound to look after his inter- 
ests. ” 

That seemed to be Master Brown’s one sentence. But • 


56 


UNDER THE STORM. 


Blane took him up, “ Look you here. Master Brown, I, 
that have been friend and gossip this many years with poor 
John Kenton^ — rest his soul — can tell you that your lady is 
like to be better served with this here Steadfast, boy 
though he be, than if you had the other stripling with his 
head full of drums and marches, guns and preachments, 
and what not, aud who never had a good day^s work in 
him without his father’s eye over him. Jhis little fellow 
has done half his share and his own to boot long ago. 
Now they are content to dwell down here, out of the way 
of the soldiering, and don’t ask her ladyship to be at any 
cost for repairing the farm up there, but will do the best 
they can for themselves. So, I say. Master Brown, it will 
be a real good work of charity, without hurt to my Lady 
and Sir George to let them be, poor things, to fight it out 
as they can.” 

“ Well, well, there’s somewhat in what you say, Good- 
man Blane, but I’m bound to look after my Lady’s inter- 
ests and Sir George’s. ” 

“ I would come and work like a good one at my Lady’s 
hay and harvest,” said Stead, ‘‘and I shall get stronger 
and bigger every year.” 

“ But the beast,” said the steward, “ my Lady’s inter- 
ests must come first, you see.” 

“Oh, don’t let him take Croppie,” cried Patience. 
“ Oh, sir, not the cows, or baby will die, and we can’t 
make the butter. ” 

“ You see. Master Brown,” explained Blane, “it is 
butter as is their chief stand-by. Poor Dame Kenton, as 
was took last spring, was the best dairy- woman in the par- 
ish, and this little maid takes after her. Their kine are 
their main prop, but there’s the mare, there’s not much 
good that she can do them.” 

“ Let us look!” said the steward. “ A sorry jade enow! 
But I don’t know but she. will serve our turn better than 
the cow. There was a requisition, as they have the im- 


tJiTDETl THE STORM. - 


5 '^ 


pudence to call it, from the Parliament lot that took off 
all our horses, except old gray Dobbin and the colt, and 
this beast may come in handy to draw the wood. So 1^11 
take her, and you may think yourself well off, and thank 
my Lady I^m so easy with you. ‘ Be not hard on the 
orphans,^ she said. ‘ Heaven forbid, my Lady,^ says I, 
‘ but I must look after your interests.^ 

The children hung round old Whitefoot, making much 
of her for the last time, and Patience and Eusha both 
cried sadly when she was led away; and it was hard to be- 
lieve Master Blane, who told them it was best for White- 
foot as well as for themselves, since they would find it a 
hard matter to get food even for the more necessary ani- 
mals in the winter, and thS poor beast would soon be skin 
and bone; while for themselves the donkey could carry all 
they wanted to market; and it might be more important 
than they understood to be thus regularly accepted as ten- 
ants by the m^nor, so that no one could turn them out. 

And Stead, remembering the cavern, knew that he 
ought to be thankful, while the two men went away. 
Brown observing, “ One can scarce turn ^em out, poor 
things, but such a mere lubber as that boy is can do no 
good! If the elder one had thought fit to stay and mind 
his own business now!^' 

“A good riddancej.I say, returned Blane. ‘‘Stead’s 
a good-hearted lad, though clownish, and I’ll do what I 
can for him. 


CHAPTER IX. 

WIHTERTTIMES. 

** Thrice welcome may such seasons be, 

But welcome too the common way, 

The lowly duties of the day.” 

There was of course much to do. Steadfast visited his 
hoard and took from thence enough to purchase churn. 


58 


. UNDER THE STORM. 


Spinning-wheel, and the few tools that he most needed; 
but it was not soon that Patience could sit down to spin. 
That must be for the winter, and their only chance of light 
was in making candles. 

Rusha could gather the green rushes, though she could 
not peel them without breaking them; and Patience had 
to take them out of her hands and herself strip the white 
pith so that only one ribbon of green was left to support it. 

The sheep, excepting a few old ewes, were always sold 
or killed before the winter, and by Blane^s advice. Stead 
kept only three. The butcher Oates took some of the 
others, and helped Stead to dispose of four more in the 
market. Two were' killed at different intervals for home 
use, but only a very small part was eaten fresh, as a won- 
derful Sunday treat, the rest was either disposed of among 
the neighbors, who took it in exchange for food of other 
kinds; or else was salted and dried for the winter ^s fare, 
laid up in bran in two great crocks which Stead had been 
forced to purchase, and which with planks from the half- 
burned house laid over them served by turns as tables or 
seats. The fat was melted up in Patience’s great kettle, 
and the rushes dipped in it over and over again till they 
had such a coating of grease as would enable them to be 
burned in the old horn lantern which had fortunately been 
in the stable and escaped the fire. 

Kind neighbors helped Stead to cut and stack his hay, 
and his little field of barley. All the grass he could cut on 
the banks he also saved for the animals’ winter food, and 
a few turnips, but these were rare and uncommon articles 
only used by the most advanced farmers, and his father 
had only lately begun to grow them, nor had potatoes be- 
come known except in the gardens of the curious. 

The vexation was that all the manor was called to give 
their three days’ labor to Lady Elmwood’s crops just as 
all their own were cut, and as, of course. Master Brown 
had chosen the finest weather, every one went in fear and 


UNDER THE STORM. 


59 


trembling for their own, and Oates and others grumbled 
so bitterly at having to work without wage, that Blane asked 
if they called their own houses and land nothing. 

There was fresh grumbling too that the food sent out to 
the laborers in the field was not as it used to be, good beef 
and mutton, but only bread and very hard cheese, and 
bowl^of hasty pudding, with thin, sour small beer to wash 
it down. Oates growled and vowed he would never come 
again to be so scurvily used; and perhaps no one guessed 
that my lady was far more impoverished than her tenants, 
and had a hard matter to supply even such fare as this. 

Happily the weather lasted good long enough to save the 
Kentons^ little crop, though there was a sad remembrance 
of the old times, when the church-bell gave the signal at 
sunrise for all the harvesters to come to church for the 
brief service, and then to start fair in their gleaning. The 
bell did still ring, but there were no prayers. The vicar 
had never conie back, and it was reported that he had been 
sent to the plantations in America. There was no service 
on Sunday nearer than Bristol. It was the church- 
wardens' business to find a minister, and of , these, poor 
Kenton was dead, and the other. Master CliSe,, was not 
likely to do anything that might put the parish to expense. 

Goodman Blane, and some of the other more seriously 
minded folk used to walk into Bristol to church when the 
weather was tolerably fine. If it were wet, the little 
stream used to flood the lower valley so that it was not pos- 
sible to get across. Steadfast was generally one of the 
party. Patience could not go, as it was too far for Kusha 
to walk, or for the baby to be carried. 

Once, seeing how much she wished to go again to 
church. Stead undertook to mind the children, the cattle, 
and the dinner in her place; but what work he. found it! 
When he tried to slice the onions for the broth, little Ben 
toddled olf, and had to be caught lest he should tumble 
into the river. Then Kusha got hold of the knife, cut her 


60 


UOTER THE STORM. 


hand, and rolled it up in her Sunday frock, and Steadfast, 
thinking he had got a small bit of rag, tied it up in Pa- 
tience’s round cap, but that he did not know till afterward, 
only that baby had got out again, and after some search 
was found asleep cuddled up close to the old sow. And so 
it went on, till poor Steadfast felt as if he had never spent 
so long a day. As to reading his Bible and Prayerd^ook, 
it was quite impossible, and he never had so much respect 
for Patience before as when he found what she did every 
day without seeming to think anything of it. She did not 
get home till after dark, but the Blanes- had taken her to 
rest at the friends with whom they spent the time between 
services, and they had given her a good meal. 

“Somehow,” said Patience, “everybody seems kinder 
than they used to be before the fighting began — and the 
parsons said the prayers as if they had more heart in 
them.” 

Patience was quite right. These times of danger were 
making every one draw nearer together, and look up more 
heartily to Him in Whom was there true help. 

But winter was coming on and bringing bad times for 
the poor children in their narrow valley, so close to the 
water. It was not a very cold season, but it was almost 
worse, for it was very wet. The little brook swelled, 
turned muddy yellow, and came rushing and tumbling 
along, far outside its banks, so that Patience wondered 
whether there could be any danger of its coming up to 
their hut and perhaps drowning them. 

“ I think there is no fear,” said Steadfast. “You see 
this house has been here from old times and never got 
washed away.” 

“ It wouldn’t wash away very easily,” said Patience, “ I 
wish we were in one of the holes up there. ” 

“If it looks like danger we might get up,” said Stead- 
fast, and to please her he cleared a path to a freshly dis- 
covered cave a little lower down the stream, but so high up 


UNDER THE STORM. 61 

on the rocky sides of the ravine as to be safe from the 
water. 

Once Patience, left afc home watching the rushing of the 
stream, became so frightened that she actually took the 
children up there, and set Rusha to hold the baby while 
she dragged up some sheepskins and some food. 

Steadfast coming home asked what she was about and 
laughed at her, showing her, by the marks on the trees, 
that the flood was already going down. Such alarms came 
seldom, but the constant damp was worse. Happily it was 
always possible to keep up a fire, wood and turf peat was 
plentiful and could be had. for the cutting and carrying, 
and though the smoke made their eyes tingle, perhaps it 
hindered the damp from hurting them, when all the walls 
wept, in spite of the reed mats which they had woven and 
hung over them. And then it was so dark. Patience’s 
rushes did not give light enough to see to do anything by 
them even when they did not get blown out, and when the 
sun had set there was nothing. for it, but as soon as the few 
cattle had been foddered in their shed and cave, to draw 
the mat and sheepskins that made a curtain by way of 
door, fasten it down with a stone, share with dog and cat 
the supper of broth, or milk, or porridge which Patience 
had cooked, and then lie down on the beds of dried leaves 
stuffed into sacking, drawing over them the blankets and 
cloaks that had happily been saved in the chest, and nest- 
ling on either side of the fire, which, if well managed, 
would smolder on for hours. There the two elder ones 
would teach Rusha her catechism and tell , old stories, and 
croon over old rhymes till both the little ones were asleep, 
and then would hold counsel on their affairs, settle how to 
husband their small stock of money, consider how soon it 
would be expedient to finish their store of salted mutton 
and pork to keep them from being spoiled by damp, and 
wonder when their hens would begin to lay. 

Jt could hardly be a merry Christmas for the poor chih 


63 


UNDEE THE STOEM. 


dren, though they did stick holly in every chink where it 
would go, but there were not many berries that year, and 
as Rusha said, “ there were only thorns/" 

Steadfast walked to Bristol through slush and mire and 
rain, not even Smith Blane went with him, deeming the 
weather too bad, and thinking, perhaps, rather overmuch 
of the goose at home. 

Bristol people were keeping Christmas with all their 
might, making the more noise and revelry because the 
Parliament had forbidden the feast to be observed at all. 
It was easy to tell who was for the King and who for the 
Parliament, for there were bushes of holly, mistletoe, and 
ivy, at all the Royalist doors and windows, and from many 
came the savory steam of roast beef or goose, while the 
other houses were shut up as close as possible and looked 
sad and grim. 

All the bells of all the churches were ringing, and every- 
body seemed to be trooping into them. As Steadfast was 
borne along by the throng there was a pause, and a boy 
of his own age with a large hat and long feather, beneath 
which could be seen curls of jet-black hair, walked at the 
head of a party of gentlemen. Every one in the crowd 
uncovered and there was a vehement cry of ‘ ' God save the 
King! God save the Prince of Wales!"" Every one 
thronged after him, and Steadfast had a hard struggle to 
squeeze into the Cathedral, and then had to stand all the 
time with his back against a pillar, for there was not even 
room to kneel down at first. 

There was no organ, but the choir men and boys had 
rallied there, and led the Psalms which went up very loud- 
ly and heartily. Then the Dean went up into the pulpit 
and preached about peace and goodwill to men, and how 
all ought to do all in theh’ power to bring those blessed 
gifts back again. A good many people dropped off during 
the sermon, and more after it, but Steadfast remained. 
He had never been able to come to the Communion feast 


UNDER THE STORM. 


63 


since the evil times had begun, and he had thought much 
about it on his^onely walk, and knew that it was the way 
to ’be helped through the hard life he was living. 

When all was over he felt very peaceful, but so hungry 
and tired witli standing and kneeling so long after his walk, 
that he was glad to lean against the wall and take out the 
piece of bread that Patience had put in his wallet. 

Presently a step came near, and from under a round vel- 
vet skull-cap a kind old face looked at him which he knew 
to be that of the Dean. 

Is that all your Christmas meal, my good boy?^’ he 
asked. 

“ I shall have something for supper, thank your rev- 
erence,^^ replied Steadfast, taking off his leathern cap. 

“ Well, mayhap you could away with something more,’^ 
said the Dean. “Come with me.^’ 

And as Steadfast obeyed, he asked further: “What is 
your name, my child? I know your face in church, but 
not in town.^^, 

“ No, sir, I do not live here. I am Steadfast Kenton, 
and I am from Elmwood, but we have no prayers nor ser- 
mon there since they took the pafson away. ” 

“Ah! good Master Hoi worth I Alas! my child, I fear 
you will scarce see him back again till the King be in Lon- 
don once more, which Heaven grant. And, meantime. 
Sir George Elmwood being patron, none can be intruded 
into his room. It is a sore case, and I fear me the case of 
many a parish besides. 

Steadfast was so much moved by the good Deanes kind- 
ness as to begin to consider whether it would be betraying 
the trust to consult him about that strange treasure in the 
cave, but the lad was never quick of thought, and before 
he could decide one of the canons joined the Dean, and 
presently going up the steps to the great hall of the Dean- 
ery, Steadfast saw long tables spread with snowy* napkins, 
^trenchers laid all round, and benches on which a numerous 

0 


64 


UNDER THE STORM. 


throng were seating themselves, mostly old people and 
little children, looking very poor arid rag’ged. Steadfast 
held himself to be a yeoman in a small way, and somewhat 
above a Christmas feast with the poor, but the Deanes 
kindness was enough to make him put away his pride, and 
then there was such a delicious steam coming up from the 
buttery hatch as was enough to melt away all nonsense of 
that sort from a hungry lad. 

Grand joints of beef came up in clouds of vapor, and 
plum-puddings smoked in their rear, to be eaten with 
them, after the fashion of those days, when of summer veg- 
etables there were few, and of winter vegetables none. The 
choir men and boys, indeed all the Cathedral clergy who 
were unmarried, were dining there, too, but the Dean and 
his wife waited on the table where the poorest were. 
Horns of ale were served to every one, and then came big 
mince-pies. Steadfast felt a great longing to take his 
home to his sisters, but he was ashamed to do it, even 
though he saw that it was permissible, they were such 
beggarly looking folks who set the example. 

However, the Dean’s wife came up to him with a pleas- 
ant smile, and asked if he had no appetite or if he were 
thinking of some one .at home, and when he answered, she 
kindly undertook to lend him a basket, for which he might 
call after even-song, and in the basket were also afterward 
found some slices of the beef and a fine large cake. 

Then the young Prince and his suite came in, and he 
stood at the end of the hall, smiling and looking amused 
as every one’s cup was filled with wine — such wine as the 
Roundhead captains had left, and the Dean at the head of 
the table gave out the health of his most sacred Majesty 
King Charles, might God bless him, and confound all his 
enemies! The Prince bared his black shining locks, and 
there wa^^ a deep Amen, and then a hurrah enough to rend 
the old vaulted ceiling; and equally enthusiastically was 
the Prince’s health afterward drunk. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


65 


Stead heard the servants saying that such a meal had 
been a costly matter^, but that the good Dean would have 
it so in order that one more true merry Christmas should 
be remembered in Bristol. 


CHAPTER X. 

A TERRIBLE HARVEST-DAY. 

There is a reaper whose name is death. 

Longfellow. 

Spring came at last, cold indeed, but dry, and it 
brought calves, and kids, and lambs, and little pigs, be- 
sides eggs and milk. The creatures prospered for two 
reasons, no doubt. One was that Stead and Patience al- 
ways prayed for a blessing on them, and the other was that 
they were almost as tender and careful over the dumb 
things as they were over little Ben, who could now run 
about and talk. All that year nothing particular hap- 
pened to the children. Patience^s good butter and fresh 
eggs had come to be known in Bristol, and besides. Stead 
and Rusha used to find plovers^ eggs on the common, for 
which the merchants^ ladies would pay them, or later for 
wild strawberries and for whortleberries. Stead could also 
make rush baskets and mats, and they were very glad of 
such earnings, some of which they spent on clothes, and on 
making their hut more comfortable, while some was stored 
up in case of need in the winter. 

For another year things went on much in the same man- 
ner, Bristol was still kept by the King^s troops; but when 
Steadfast went into the place there was less cheerfulness 
among the loyal folk, and the Puritans began to talk of 
victories of their cause, while in the Cathedral the canon ^s 
voice trembled and grew choked in the prayer for the 
King, and the sermons were generally about being true 
and faithful to King and Church whatever might betide, 
a 


66 


UlTDER THE STORM. 


The Prince of Wales had long since moved away, indeed 
there were reports that the plague was in some of the low, 
crowded streets near the water, and Patience begged her 
brother to take care of himself. 

There had been no Christmas feast at the Deanery, it 
was understood that the Dean thought it better not to 
bring so many people together. 

Then as harvest-time was coming on more soldiers came 
into the place. They looked much shabbier than the 
troops of a year ago, their coats were worn and soiled, and 
their feathers almost stumps, but they made up for their 
poverty by swagger and noise, and Steadfast was thankful 
that it was unlikely that any of them should find the way 
to his little valley with what they called requisitions for the 
King^s service, but which meant what he knew too well. 
Some of the villagers formed into bands, and agreed to 
meet at the sound of a cow-horn, to drive any one off on 
either side who came to plunder, and they even had a flag 
with the motto: 

“ If you take our cattle 
We will give you battle/’ 

And they really did drive off some stragglers. Stead, 
however, accepted the offer from Tom Oates of a young 
dog, considerably larger and stronger than poor old Toby, 
yellow and somewhat brindled, and known as Growler. He 
looked very terrible, but was very civil to those whom he 
knew, and very soon became devoted to all the family, 
especially to little Ben. However, most of the garrison 
and the poorer folk of the town were taken up with mend- 
ing the weak places in the walls, and digging ditches with 
the earth of which they made steep banks, and there were 
sentries at the gates, who were not always civil. Whatever 
the country people brought into the town was eagerly 
bought up, and was paid for, not often in the coin of the 
realm, but by tokens made of tin or some such metal with 


UKDER THE STORM. 


67 


odd stamps upon them, and though they could be used as 
money, they would not go nearly so fat as the sums they 
were held to represent — at least in any one^s hands but 
those of the officer's. 

There were reports that the Parliament army was about 
t^ besiege the town, and Prince Rupert was coming to de- 
fend it. Steadfast was very anxious, and would not let 
his sisters stir out of the valley, keeping the cattle there as 
much as possible. 

One day, when he had been sent for to help to gather in 
Lady Elmwood^s harvest, in the afternoon the reaping and 
binding were suddenly interrupted by the distant rattle of 
musketry, such as had been heard two years ago, in the 
time of the first siege, but it was in quite another direction 
from the town. Every one left off work, and made what 
speed they could to the top of the sloping field, whence 
they could see what was going on. 

“ There they bel^^ shouted Tom Oates. “ I saw ^em 
first! Hurrah! They be at Luck^s mill.^^ 

“ Hush! you good-for-nothing,^^ shrieked Bess Hart, 
throwing her apron over her head. When we shall be 
killed and murdered. 

“ Hot just yet, dame,^’ said Master Brown. ‘‘ They be 
a long way off, and they have enow to do with one an- 
other. I wonder if Sir George be there. He writ to my 
Lady that he hoped to see her ere long.^’ 

‘‘And my Roger,^^ called out a woman. “He went 
with Sir George. 

“ And our Jack,^^ was the cry of another; while Stead- 
fast thought of Jephthah, but knew he must be on the op- 
posite side. From the top of the field, they could see a 
wide sweep of country dipping down less than two miles 
from them where there was a bridge over a small river, a 
mill, and one or two houses near. On the nearer side of 
the river could be seen the flash of steel caps, and a close, 
dark body of men, on the further side was another force. 


68 


UNDER THE STORM. 


mostly of horsemen, with what seemed like wagons and 
baggage-horses in the rear. They had what by its colors 
seemed to be the English banner, the others had several 
undistinguish able standards. Puffs of smoke broke from 
the windows of the mill. 

“Ay!” said Goodman Plane. “I would not be in 
Miller Luck's shoes just now. I wonder where he is, pow 
rogue. Which side have got his mill, think you. Master 
Brown?” 

“The round-headed rascals for certain,” said Master 
Brown, “ and the bridge, too, trying to hinder the King's 
men from crossing bag and baggage to relieve the town.” 

“ See, there's a party drawing together. Is it to force 
the bridge?” 

“ Ay, ay, and there's another troop galloping up- 
stream. Be they running off, the cowards?” 

“ Not they. Depend on it, some of our folks have told 
them of Oolham ford. Heaven be with them, brave lads. ” 

“ Most like Sir George is there, I don't see 'em.” 

“ No, of course not, stupid, they'll be taking Colham 
Lane. See, see, there's a lot of 'em drawn up to force 
the bridge. Good luck be with them.” 

More puffs of smoke from the mill, larger ones from the 
bank, and a rattle and roll came up to the watchers. 
There was a moment's shock and pause in the assault, then 
a rush forward, and the distant sound of a cheer, which 
those on the hill could not help repeating. But from the 
red-coats on and behind the bridge proceeded a perfect 
cloud of smoke, which hid everything, and when it began 
to clear away on the wind, there seemed to be a hand-to- 
hand struggle going on upon the bridge, smaller puffs, as 
though pistols were being used, and forms falling over the 
parapet, at which sight the men held their breath, and the 
women shrieked and cried: “ God have mercy on their 
poor souls.” And then the dark-coated troops seemed to 
be driven back. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


69 


“ That was a feint, only a feint,^^ cried Master Brown. 
“ See there 

For the plumed troop of horsemen had indeed crossed, 
and came galloping down the bank with such a jingling 
and clattering and thundering of hoofs as came up to the 
harvest men above, and Master Brown led the cheer as 
they charged upon the compact mass of red-coats behind 
the bridge, and broke and rode them down by the vehe- 
mence of the shock. 

“ Hurrah cried Blane. “ Surely they will turn now 
and take the fellows on the bridge in the rear. Ho. Ha! 
they are hunting them down on to their baggage! Well 
done, brave fellows, hip! hip! — 

But the hurrah died on his lips as a deep low hum — a 
Psalm tune sung by hundreds of manly voices — ascended 
to his ears, to the accompaniment of the heavy thud of 
horse-hoofs, and from the London Eoad, between the 
bridge and the Royalist horsemen, there emerged a com- 
pact body of troopers, in steel caps and corselets. Form- 
ing in ranks of three abreast, they charged over the bridge, 
and speedily cleared off the Royalists who were struggling 
to obtain a footing there. 

There was small speech on the hill-side, as the encounter 
was watched, and the Ironsides forming on the other side, 
charged the already broken troops before they had time to 
rally, and there was nothing to be seen but an utter dis- 
persion and scattering of men, looking from that distance 
like ants when their nest has been broken into. 

It was only a skirmish, not to be heard of in history, but 
opening the way for the besiegers to the walls of Bristol, 
and preventing any of the supplies from reaching the gar- 
rison, or any of the intended re-enforcements, except some 
of the eager Cavaliers, who galloped on thither, when they 
found it impossible to return and guard the bridge for their 
companions. 

The struggle was over around the bridge in less than two 


70 


UNDEK THE STOKM. 


hours, but no more of Lady Elmwood^s harvest was gath- 
ered in that evening. The people watched as if they could 
not tear themselves from the contemplation of the success- 
ful bands gathering together in their solid masses, and 
marching onward in the direction of Bristol, leaving, how- 
ever, a strong guard at the bridge, over which piled wagons 
and beasts of burden continued to pass, captured no doubt 
and prevented from relieving the city. It began to draw 
toward evening, and Master Brown was beginning to ob- 
serve that he must go and report to my lady, poor soul; 
and as to the corn, well, they had lost a day gaping at the 
fight, and they must come up again to-morrow, he only 
hoped they were not carting it for the round-headed rogues; 
when at that moment there was a sudden cry, first of ter- 
ror, then of recognition, “ Eoger, Hodge Fitter! how didst 
come here?^^ 

For a weary, worn-out trooper, with stained buff coat, 
and heavy boots, stood panting among them. I thought 
Twas our folks,^'’ he said. “ Be mother here?^^ 

“ Hodge! My Hodge! Be^st hurt, my lad?'^ cried the 
mother, bursting through the midst and throwing herself 
on him, while his father contented himself with a sort of 
grunt. “All right, Hodge. How com ’st here?^' 

“ And where's my Jack?" exclaimed Goody Bent. 

“ And where’s our Harry?" was another cry from 
Widow Lakin. 

While Stead longed to ask, but could not be heard in the 
clamor, whether his brother had been there. 

Hodge could tell little — seen less than the lookers-on 
above. He had been among those who had charged 
through the enemy, and ridden toward Bristol, but his 
horse had been struck by a stray shot, and killed under 
him. He had avoided the pursuers by scrambling through 
a hedge, and then had thought it best to make his way 
through the fields to his own home, until, seeing the party 


UKDER THE STORM. 71 

on the hill, he had joined them, expecting to find his 
parents among them. 

Sir George he knew to be on before him, and probably 
almost at Bristol by this time. Poor Jack had been left 
weeks ago on the field of Naseby, though there had been 
no opportunity of letting his family know. “Ill news 
travels fast enough !'’ And as to Harry, he had been shot 
down by a trooper near about the bridge, but mayhap 
might be alive for all that. 

“ And my brother, Jeph Kenton,^ ^ Steadfast managed 
to say. “ Was he there?^’ 

“Jeph Kenton! Why, he ^s a canting Roundhead. 
The only Elmwood man as is! More shame for him.^' 

“ But was he there? demanded Stead. 

“ There! Well, Captain Venn^s horse were there, and 
he was in them! I have seen him more than once on out- 
post duty, prating away as if he had a beard on his chin. 
I'd a good mind to put a bullet through him to stop his 
impudence, for a disgrace to the place." 

“ Then he was in the fight?" reiterated Steadfast. 

“ Ay, was he. And got his deserts. I'll be bound, for 
we went smack smooth through Venn's horse, like a knife 
through a moldy cheese, and left 'em lying to the right 
and left. If the other fellows had but stuck by us as well, 
we'd have made a clean sweep of the canting dogs. " 

Hodge's eloquence was checked by the not unwelcome 
offer of a drink of cider. 

“ Seems quite enough down there," said Nanny Lakin, 
peering wistfully over the valley where the shadows of even- 
ing were spreading. “ Mayhap if I went down I might 
find out how it is with my poor lad. " 

“ Nay, I'll go, mother," said a big, loutish youth, hith- 
erto silent; “mayn't be so well for womenfolk down 
there. " 

“ What's that to me, Joe, when my poor Harry may be 
lying a-bleeding his dear life out down there?" 


72 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“ There^s no fear/’ said Hodge. “ To give them their 
due, the Koundheads be always civil to countryfolk and 
women — leastways unless they take ^em for Irish — and 
thinking that, they did make bloody work with the jDOor 
ladies at Naseby. But the dame there will be safe 
enough,^’ he added, as she was already on the move down 
hill. “ Has no one a keg of cider to give her? I know 
what ’tis to lie parching under a wound. ” 

Some one produced one, and as her son shouted “ Have 
with you, mother,” Steadfast hastily asked Tom . Oates to 
let Patience know that he was gone to see after Jephthah, 
and joined Ned Lakin and his mother. 

Jeph had indeed left his brothers and sisters in a strange, 
wild way, almost cruel in its thoughtlessness; but to Stead 
ii had never seemed more than that elder brotherly master- 
fulness that he took as a matter of course, and there was 
no resting in the thought of his lying wounded and helpless 
on the field — nay, the assurance that Hodge shouted out 
that the rebel dogs took care of their own fell on unhearing 
or unheeding ears, as Steadfast and Ned Lakin dragged the 
widow through a gap in the hedge over another field, and 
then made their way down a deep stony lane between high 
hedges. 

It was getting dark, in spite of the harvest moon, by the 
time they came out on the open space below, and began to 
see that saddest of all sights, a battle-field at night. 

A soldier used to war would perhaps have scorned to call 
this a battle, but it was dreadful enough to these three 
when they heard the sobbing, panting, and saw the strug- 
gling of a poor horse not quite dead, and his rider a little 
way from him, a fine stout young man, cold and stiff, as 
Nanny turned up his face to see if it was her Harry’s. 

A little further on lay another figure on his back, but 
as Nanny stooped over it, a lantern was flashed on her and 
a gruff voice called out, ‘‘ Villains, ungodly churls, be you 


UlTDER THE STORK. 


73 


robbing the dead?” and a tall man stood darkly before 
them, pistol in hand. 

“ No, sir; no, sir,” sobbed out Nanny. “ I am only a 
poor widow woman, come down to see whether my poor 
lad be dead or alive and wanting his mother.'^ 

“ What was his regiment?” demanded the soldier in a 
kinder voice. 

“ Oh, sir, your honor, don^t be hard on him— he 
couldnH help it — he went with Sir George Elmwood. ” 

“ That makes no odds, woman, when a man^s down,^^ 
said the soldier. ‘‘ Unless ^tis with the Fifth Monarchy 
sort, and I don't hold with them. I have an uncle and a 
cousin or two among the malignants, as good fellows as 
ever lived — no Amalekites and Canaanites — let Smite-them 
Derry say what he will. Elmwood! let's see — that was the 
troop that forded higher up, and came on Fisher's corps. 
This way, dame. If your son be down, you'll find him 
here; that is, unless he be carried into the mill or one of 
the houses. Most of the wounded lie there for the night, 
but the poor lads that are killed must be buried to-mor- 
row. Take care, dame,” as poor Nanny cried out in hor- 
ror at having stumbled over a dead man's legs. He held 
his lantern so that she could see the face while she groaned 
out, “ Poor soul. ” And thus they worked their sad way 
up to the buildings about the water-mill. There was a shed 
through the chinks of which light could be seen, and a^ 
the door of which a soldier exclaimed — 

“ Have ye more wounded, Sam? There's no room for 
a dog in here. They lie as thick as herrings in a barrel." 

“ Nay, 'tis a poor country woman come to look for her 
son. What’s his name? Is there a malignant here of the 
name of Harry Lakin?" 

The question was repeated, and a cry of gladness, 
‘‘ Mother! mother!" ended in a shriek of pain in the dis- 
tance within. 


74 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“ Ay, get you in, mother, get you in. A woman here 
will be all the better, be she who she may."' 

The permission was not listened to. Nanny had already 
sprung into the midst of the mass of suifering toward the 
bloody straw where her son was l3dng. 

Steadfast, who had of course looked most anxiously at 
each of the still forms on the way, now ventured to say: 

“ So please you, sir, would you ask after one Jephthah 
Kenton? On your own side, sir, in Captain Venn's troop? 
I am his brother." 

‘‘ Oh, ho! you are of the right sort, eh?" said the sol- 
dier. ‘Jephthah Kenton. D'ye know aught of him, 
Joe?" 

“ I heard him answer to the roll call before Venn's troop 
went off to quarters," replied the other man. “ He is safe 
and sound, my lad, and Venn's own orderly. " 

Steadfast's heart bounded up. He longed still to know 
whether poor Harry Lakin was in very bad case, but it 
was impossible to get in to discover, and he was pushed 
out of the way by a party carrying in another wounded 
man, whose moans and cries were fearful to listen to. He 
thought it would be wisest to make the best of his way 
home to Patience, and set her likewise at rest, for who 
could tell what she might not have heard. 

The moon was shining brightly enough to make his way 
plain, but the scene around was all the sadder and more 
ghastly in that pallid light, which showed out the dark 
forms of man and horse, and what was worse the white 
faces turned up, and those dark pools in which once or 
twice he had slipped as he saw or fancied he saw move, 
ments that made him shudder, while a poor dog on the 
other side of the stream howled piteously from time to 
time. 

Presently, as he came near a hawthorn bush which cast 
a strangely shaped shadow, he heard a sobbing — not like 
the panting moan of a wounded man, but the worn-out 


UKDER THE STORM. 


75 


crying of a tired child. He thought some village little one 
must have wandered there, and been hemmed in by the 
fight, and he called out — 

‘ Is any one there 

The sobbing ceased for a moment and he called again, 
“ Who is it? I wonT hurt you,'’^ for something white 
seemed to be squeezing closer into the bush. 

“ Who are you for?^^ piped out a weak little voice. 

“ I^m no soldier,^^ said Steadfast. “ Come out, 1^11 
take you home by and by.^’ 

I have no home!^^ was the answer. “ I want father. 
Steadfast was now under the tree, and could see that it was 
a little girl who was sheltering there of about the same size 
as Rusha. He tried to take her hand, but she backed 
against the tree, and he repeated, Come along, I 
wouldnT hurt you for the world. Who is your father? 
Where shall we find him?’^ 

“ My father is Sergeant Gay thorn of Sir Harry Blythe- 
dale^s troopers,^' said the child, somewhat proudly, then 
starting again, “ You are not a rebel, are you?^^ 

“ No, I am a country lad,^^ said Steadfast; “ I want to 
help you. Come, you can^t stay here. 

For the little hand she had 3 delded to him was cold and 
damp with the September dews. His touch seemed to give 
her confidence, and when he asked, “ Can’t I take you to 
your mother?” she answered — 

“ Mother’s dead! The rascal Roundheads shot her over 
at Naseby. ” 

“Poor child! poor child!” said Steadfast. “And you 
came on with your father. ’ ’ 

“ Yes, he took me on his horse over the water, and told 
me to wait by the bush till he came or sent for me, but he 
has not come, and the firing is over and it is dark, and I’m 
so hungry. ” 

Steadfast thought the child had better come home with 
him, but she declared that father would come back for her. 


76 


UNDER THE STORM. 


He felt convinced that her father, if alive, must be in Bris- 
tol, and that he could hardly come through the enemy^s 
outposts, and he explained to her this view. To his sur- 
prise she understood in a moment, having evidently much 
more experience of military matters than he had, and 
when he further told her that Hodge was at Elmwood, and 
would no doubt rejoin his regiment at Bristol the next 
day, she seemed satisfied, and with the prospect of supper 
before her, trotted along, holding Steadfast^s hand and 
munching a crust which hehad found in his pouch, the re- 
mains of his interrupted meal, but though at first it seemed 
to revive her a good deal, the poor little thing was evi- 
dently tired out, and she soon began to drag, and fret, and 
moan. The three miles was a long way for her, and tired 
as he was. Steadfast had to take her on his back, and when 
at last he reached home, and would have set her down be- 
fore his astonished sisters, she was fast asleep with her head 
on his shoulder. 


CEAPTEE XI. 

THE FORTUNES OF WAR. 

Hear and improve, he pertly cries, 

I come to make a nation wise. 

Gay. 

Very early in the morning, before indeed any one ex- 
cept Patience was stirring. Steadfast set forth in search of 
Eoger Pitter to consult him about the poor child who was 
fast asleep beside Jerusha; and propose to him to take her 
into Bristol to find her father. 

Hodge, who had celebrated his return by a hearty supper 
with his friends, was still asleep, and his mother was very 
unwilling to call him, or to think of his going back to the 
wars. However, he rolled down the cottage -stair at last, 
and the first thing he did was to observe — 


UNDER THE STORM. 


77 


‘‘Well, mother, how be you? I felt like a boy again, 
waking up in the old chamber. Where’s my back and 
breast-piece? Have you a cup of ale, while I rub it up?” 

“ Now, Hodge, you be not going to put on that iron 
thing again, when you be come back safe and sound from 
those bloody wars?” entreated his mother. 

“ Ho, ho! mother, would you have me desert? No, no! 
I must to my colors again, or Sir George and my lady 
might make it too hot to hold you here. Halloo, young 
one. Stead Kenton, eh? Didst find thy brother? No, Fil 
be bound. The Eoundhead rascals have all the luck.” 

“ I found something else,” said Steadfast, and he pro- 
ceeded to tell about the child while Dame Fitter stood by 
with many a pitying “ Dear heart!” and “ Good lack!” 

Hodge knew Sergeant Gaythorn, and knew that the poor 
man’s wife had been shot dead in the flight from Naseby; 
but he demurred at the notion of incumbering himself Vith 
the child when he went into the town. He suspected that 
he should have much ado to get in himself, and if he could 
not find her father, what could he do with her? 

Moreover, he much doubted whether the sergeant was 
alive. He had been among those on whom the sharpest 
attack had fallen, and not many of them had got off alive. 

“ What like was he?” said Steadfast. “ We looked at 
a many of the poor corpses that lay there. They’ll never 
be out of my eyes again at night!” 

“ A battle-field or two would cure that,” grimly smiled 
Hodge. “ Gaythorn — he was a man to know again— had 
big black mustaches, and had lost an eye, had a scar like 
a wale from a whip all down here from a sword-cut at 
Long Marston.” 

“ Then I saw him,” said Stead, in a low voice. “ Did 
he wear a green scarf?” 

“ Ay, ay. Belonged to the Bangers, but they are pretty 
nigh all gone now. ” 

“ Under the rail of the miller’s croft,” added Stead. 


78 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“Just SO. • That was where I saw them make a stand 
and go down like skittles. 

‘‘ Poor little maid. What shall I tell her?^' 

“ Well, you can never be sure,’’ said Hodge. “ There 
was a man now I thought as dead as a door nail at New- 
bury that charged by my side only yesterday. You’d best 
tell the maid that if I find her father I’ll send him after 
her; and if not, when the place is quiet, you miglit look at 
the mill and see if he is lying wounded there. 

Steadfast thought the advice good, and it saved him 
from what he had no heart to do, though he could scarcely 
doubt that one of those ghastly faces had been the ser- 
geant’s. 

When he approached his home he was surprised to hear, 
through the copse wood, the sound of chattering, and when 
he came in sight of the front of the hut, he beheld Patience 
making butter with the long-handled churn, little Ben tod- 
dling about on the grass, and two little girls laughing and 
playing with all the poultry round them. 

One, of course, was stout, ruddy, gray-eyed Rusha, in 
her tight round cap, and stout brown petticoat with the 
homespun apron over it; the other was like a fairy by her 
side; slight and tiny, dressed in something of mixed threads 
of white and crimson that shone in the sun, with a velvet 
bodice, a green ribbon over it, and a gem over the shoulder 
that flashed in the sun, a tiny scarlet hood from which such 
a quantity of dark locks streamed as to give something 
the effect of a goldfinch’s crown, and the face was a brill- 
iant little brown one, with glowing cheeks, pretty little 
white teeth, and splendid dark eyes. 

Patience could have told that this bright array was so 
soiled, rumpled, ragged, and begrimed, that she hardly 
liked to touch it, but to Steadfast, who had only seen the 
child in the moonlight, she was a wonderful vision in the 
morning sunshine, and his heart was struck with a great 
pity at her clear, merry tones of laughter. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


79 


As he appeared in the open space, Toby running before 
him, the little girl looked up and rushed to him crying 
out — 

“ It^s you. Be you the country fellow who took me 
home? Where’s father?” 

Stead was so sorry for her that he took her up in his 
arms and said — 

Hodge Fitter is gone into town to look for him, my 
pretty. You must wait here till he comes for you,” and 
he would have kissed her, but she turned her head away, 
pouted, and said, “ I didn’t give you leave to do that, you 
lubber lad.” 

Steadfast was much diverted. He was now a tall sturdy 
youth of sixteen, in a short smock-frock, long leathern 
gaiters, and a round straw hat of Patience’s manufacture, 
and he felt too clumsy for the dainty little being, whom 
he hastened to set on her small feet — in once smart but 
very dilapidated shoes. His sisters were somewhat shocked 
at her impertinence and Rusha brea?thed out, Oh — I” 

‘‘ I am to wait here for Sergeant Gaythorn,” observed 
the little damsel somewhat consequentially. “ Well! it is 
a strange little make-shift of a place, but ’tis the fortune of 
war, and I have been in worse.” 

“It is beautiful!” -said Rusha, “now we have got a 
glass window — and a real door — and beds — ” all which 
recent stages in improvement she enumerated with a gasp 
of triumph and admiration between each. 

“ So you think,” said little Mistress Gaythorn. “ But 
I have lived in a castle. ” 

She was quite ready to tell her history. Her name was 
Emlyn, and the early part of the eight years' of her life had 
been spent at Sir Harry Blythedale’s castle, where her fa- 
ther had been butler and her mother my lady’s woman. 
Sir Harry had gone away to the wars, and in his absence 
my lady had held out the castle (perhaps it was only a 


80 


UNDEK THE STORM. 


fortified house) against General Waller, hoping and hop- 
ing in vain for Lord Goring to come to her relief. 

“ That was worst of all,^^ said Ernlyn, we had to hide 
in the cellars when they fired at us — and broke all the 
windows, and a shot killed my poor dear little kitten be- 
cause she wouldnT stay down with me. And we couldn’t 
get any water, except by going out at night; young Mas- 
ter George was wounded at the well. And they only gave 
. us a tiny bit of dry bread and salt meat every day, and it 
made little Ralph sick and he died. And at last there was 
only enough for two days more — and a great breach — 
that’s a hole,” she added, condescendingly — “ big enough 
to drive my lady’s coach and six through in the court wall. 
So then my lady sent out Master Steward with one of the 
best napkins on the end of a stick — that was a flag of 
truce, you know — and all the rascal Roundheads had . to 
come in, and we had to go out, with only just what we 
could carry. My lady went in her coach with Master 
George, because he was hurt, and the young ladies, and 
some of the maids Went home; but the most of us kept 
with my lady, to guard her to go to his honor and the 
King at Oxford. Rather rode big Severn, and mother was 
on a pillion behind him, with baby in her arms, and I sat 
on a cushion in front. ” 

After that, it seemed that my lady had found a refuge 
among her kindred, but that the butler had been enrolled 
in his master’s troop of horse, and there being no separate 
means of support for his wife and children, they had fol- 
lowed the camp, a life that Emlyn had evidently enjoyed, 
although the baby died of the exposure. She had been a 
great pet and favorite with everybody and no doubt well- 
cared for even after the sad day when her mother had 
perished in the slaughter at Naseby. Patience wondered 
what was to become of the poor child, if her father never 
appeared to claim her; but it was no time to bring this for- 
ward, for Steadfast, as soon as he had swallowed his por- 


UKDER THE STORM. 


81 


ridge, had to go off to finish his day^s labor for the lady of 
the manor, warning his sisters that they had better keep 
as close as they could in the wood, and not let the cattle 
stray out of their valley. 

He had not gone far, however, before he met a party of 
his fellow-laborers running home. Their trouble had been 
saved them. The Roundhead soldiers had taken posses- 
sion of wagons, horses, corn and all, as the property of a 
malignant, and were carrying them off to their camp be- 
fore the town. 

Getting up on a hedge. Stead could see these strange 
harvestmen loading the wagons and driving them off. He 
also heard that Sir George had come late in the evening, 
and taken old Lady Elmwood and several of the servants 
into Bristol for greater safety. Then came the heavy boom 
of a great gun in the distance. 

“ The Parliament men are having their turn now — as 
the King^s men had before, said Oates. 

And all who had some leisure — or made it — went off to 
the church tower to get a better view of the white tents 
being set up outside the city walls, and the compact bodies 
of troops moving about as if impelled by machinery, while 
others more scattered bustled like insects about the camp. 

Steadfast, however, went home, very anxious about his 
own three cows, and seven sheep with their lambs, as well 
as his small patches of corn, which, when green, had 
already only escaped being made forage of by the Royalist 
garrison, because he was a tenant of the loyal Elmwoods. 
These fields were exposed, though the narrow wooded 
ravine might protect the small homestead and the cattle. 

He found his new guest very happy cracking nuts, and 
expounding to Rusha what kinds of fire-arms made the 
various sounds they heard. Patience had made an attempt 
to get her to exchange her soiled finery for a sober dress of 
Rusha's; but “What shall I do, Stead?"" said the grave 
elder sister, “ I can not get her to listen to me, she says 


82 


UNDER THE STORM. 


she is no prick-eared Puritan, but truly she is not fit to be 
seen.^' Stead whistled. Besides that she might bring 
herself and all of us into danger with those gewgaws. 

‘‘ ThaPs true/"' said Stead. “ Look you here, little 
maid — none can say whether some of the rebel folk may 
find their way here, and they don’t like butterflies of your 
sort, you know. If you look a sober little brown bee like 
Kusha here, they will take no notice, but who knows what 
they might do if they found you in your bravery.” 

‘‘Bravery,” thought Patience, “ filthy old rags, me- 
seems,” but she had the prudence not to speak, and 
Emlyn nodded her head, saying, “ I’ll do it for you, but 
not for her. ” 

And when dll was done, and she was transformed into a 
little russet-robed, white-capped being, nothing would serve 
her, but to collect all the brightest cranesbill flowers she 
could find, and stick them in her own bodice and Eusha’s. 

Patience could not at all understand the instinct for 
bright colors, but even little Ben shouted “ Pretty, 
pretty. ” 

Perhaps it was well that the delicate pink blossoms were 
soon faded and crushed, and that twilight veiled their 
colors, for just as the cattle were being foddered for the 
night, there was a gay step on the narrow path, and with 
a start of terror. Patience beheld a tall soldier, in tall hat, 
bttfi coat, and high boots before her; while Growler made 
a horrible noise, but Toby danced in a rapture of delight. 

“ Ha! little Patience, is’t thou?” 

“ Jephthah,” she cried, though the voice as well as the 
form was greatly changed in these two years between boy- 
hood and manhood. 

“ Ay, Jepthah ’tis,” he said, taking her hand, and let- 
ting her kiss him. “ My spirit was moved to come and 
see how it was with you all, and to shew how Heaven had 
prospered me, so I asked leave of absence after roll-call, 
and could better be spared, as that faithful man, Hold- 


UNDER THE STORM. 


83 


the-Faitli Jenkins, will exhort the men this night. I came 
up by Elmwood to learn tidings of you. Ha, Stead! 
Thou art grown, my lad. May you be as much grown in 
grace. 

“ You are grown, too,^^ said Patience, almost timidly. 
“What a man you are, Jeph! Here, Rusha, you mind 
Jeph, and here is little Benoni.^^ 

“ You have reared that child, then,^^ said Jeph, as the 
boy clung to his sister^s skirts, “ and you have kept things 
together. Stead, as I hardly deemed you would do, when 
I had the call to the higher service. It was an odd sort 
of call, but there was no need to go into that matter, and 
Stead answered gravely, “ Yes, I thank God. He has 
been very good to us, and we have fared well. Come in, 
Jeph, and see, and have something to eat! I am glad you 
are come home at last.^^ 

Jephthah graciously consented to enter the low hut. 
He had to bend his tall figure and take off his steeple- 
crowned hat before he could enter at the low door-way, and 
then they saw his closely cropped head. 

Patience tarried a moment to ask Rusha what had be- 
come of Emlyn. 

“She is hiding in the cow-shed,’*' was the answer. 
“ She ran oJff as soon as she saw Jeph coming, and said he 
was a crop-eared villain.’^* 

This was not bad news, and they all entered the hut, 
where the fire was made up, and one of Patience’s rush 
candles placed on the table with a kind of screen of plaited 
rushes to protect it from the worst of the draught. Jeph 
had grown quite into a man in the eyes of his brothers and 
sisters. He looked plump and well fed, and his clothes 
were good and fresh, and his armor bright, a contrast to 
Steadfast’s smock, stained with weather and soil, and his 
rough leathern leggings, although Patience did her best, 
and his shirt was scrupulously clean every Sunday morn- 
ing. 


84 


UNDEK THE STORM. 


The soldier was evidently highly satisfied. So, chil- 
dren, you have done better than I could have hoped. This 
hovel is weather-tight and quite fit to harbor you. You 
have done well to keep together, and it is well said that he 
who leaves all in the hands of a good Providence shall have 
his reward. 

Jeph^s words were even more sacred than these, and 
considerably overawed Patience, who, as he sat before her 
there in his buff coat and belt, laying down the law in 
pious language, was almost persuaded to believe that their 
present comfort and prosperity (such as it was) was owing 
to the faith which he said had led to his desertion of his 
family, though she had always thought it mere impatience 
of home work fired by revenge for his father’s death. 

No doubt he* believed in this reward himself, in his re- 
lief at finding his brothers and sisters all together and not 
starving, and considered their condition a special blessing 
due to his own zeal, instead of to Steadfast’s patient exer- 
tion. 

He was much more disposed to talk of himself and the 
mercies he had received, but which the tone of his voice 
showed him to consider as truly his deserts. Captain Venn 
had, it seemed, always favored him from the time of his 
enlistment, and nothing but his youth prevented him from 
being a corporal. He had been in the two great battles of 
Marston Moor and Naseby, and come off unhurt from 
each, and moreover grace had been given him to interpret 
the Scriptures in a manner highly savory and inspiriting to 
the soldiery. 

Here Patience, in utter amaze, could not help crying out: 
“ Thou, Jeph! Thou couldst not read without spelling, 
and never Would.” 

He waved his hand. “ My sister, what has carnal learn- 
ing to do with grace?” And taking a little black Bible 
from within his breast-plate, he seemed about to give them 
a specimen, when Emlyn’s impatience and hunger no 


UNDER THE STORM. 


85 


doubt getting the better of her prudence, she crept into the 
room, and presently was seen standing by Steadfast^s knee, 
holding out her hand for some of the bread and cheese on 
the table. 

“ And who is this little wench?^^ demanded Jeph, some- 
what displeased that his brother manifested a certain inat- 
tention to his exhortation by signing to Patience to supply 
her wants. Stead made unusual haste to reply to prevent 
her from speaking. 

‘‘ She is biding with us till she can join her father, or 
knows how it is with him. 

“ Humph! She hath not the look of one of the daugh- 
ters of our people.^’ 

“ Nay/^ said Steadfast. I went down last night to 
the mill, Jeph, to see whether perchance you might be 
hurt and wanting help, and after I had heard that all was 
well with you, I lighted on this poor little maid crouching 
under a bush, and brought her home with me for pity^s 
sake till ! could find her friends. 

“ The child of a Midianitish woman I exclaimed Jeph, 

one of the Irish idolaters of whom it is written, ^ Thou 
shalt smite them, and spare neither man, nor woman, in- 
fant, nor suckling.^ “ But I am not Irish, broke out 
Emlyn, “ ham from Worcestershire. My father is Ser- 
geant Gaythorn, butler to Sir Harry Blythedale. DonT 
let him kill me,^^ she cried, in an access of terror, throw- 
ing herself on Steadfast^s breast. 

“ No, no. He would not harni thee, on mine hearth. 
Fear not, little one, he shall not.^^ 

Nay,^^ said Jephthah, who, to do him justice, had re- 
spected the rights of hospitality enough not to touch his 
weapon even when he thought her Irish, “ we harm not 
women and babes save when they are even as the Amale- 
kites. Let my brother go, child. I touch thee not, 
though thou be of an ungodly seed; and I counsel thee. 


86 


UNDEE THE STOEM. 


Steadfast, touch not the accursed thing, but rid thyself 
thereof, ere thou be defiled/^ 

I shall go so soon as father comes, exclaimed Emlyn. 
‘‘ I am sure I do not want to stay in this mean, smoky 
hovel a bit longer than I can help/^ 

“ Such are the thanks of the ungodly people, said 
Jeph, gravely rising. “ I must be on my way back. We 
are digging trenches about this great city, assuredly believ- 
ing that it shall be delivered into our hands/^ 

‘‘ Stay, Jeph,"^ said Patience. “ Our corn! Will your 
folk come and cart it away as they have done my lady^sr” 
“ The spoil of the wicked is delivered over to the right- 
eous, '' said Jeph. “ But seeing that the land is mine, a 
faithful servant of the good cause, they may not meddle 
therewith. 

“ How are they to know that?^^ said Steadfast, not stop- 
ing to dispute what rather startled him, since though Jeph 
was the eldest son, the land had been made over to him- 
self. To save the crop was the point. 

“ Look you here,^' said Jeph, ‘‘ walk down with me to my 
good Captain^’s quarters, and he will give you a protection 
which you may show to any man who dares to touch aught 
that is ours, be it corn or swine, ox or ass/^ 

It was a long walk, but Steadfast was only too glad to 
take it for the sake of such security, and besides, there was 
a real pleasure in being with Jeph, little as he seemed like 
the same idle, easy-going brother, except perhaps in those 
little touches of selfishness and boastfulness, which, though 
Stead did not realize them, did recall the original Jeph. 

All through the moonlight walk Jeph expounded his sin- 
gular mercies, which apparently meant his achievements in 
killing Cavaliers, and the commendations given to him. 
One of these mercies was the retention of the home and 
land, though he kindly explained that his brothers and sis- 
ters were welcome to get their livelihood there whilst he 
was serving with the army, but some day he should come 


UNDER . THE STORM, 


87 


home “ as one that divideth the spoil/^ and build up the 
old house, unless, indeed, and he glanced toward the slop- 
ing woods of Elmwood Manor, “ the house and fields of 
the malignants should be delivered to the faithful. 

‘‘ My lady^s house, said Steadfast under his breath. 

Wherefore not? Is it not written ‘ Goodly houses that 
ye builded not,^ Thou must hear worthy Corporal Hold- 
the-Faith expound the matter, my brother. 

They crossed the ferry and reached the outposts at last, 
and Stead was much startled when the barrel of a musket 
gleamed in the moonlight, and a gruff voice said, “ Stand 
“ The jawbone of an ass,^^ promptly answered Jephthah. 
“ Pass, jawbone of an ass,^^ responded the sentry, ** and 
alFs well. But who have you here, comrade?^^ 

Jeph explained, and they passed up the narrow lane, 
meeting at the end of it another sentinel, with whom the 
like watchword was exchanged, and then they came out ort 
a large village green, completely changed from its usual 
aspect by rows of tents, on which the moonlight shone,, 
while Jeph seemed to know his way through them as well 
as if he were in the valley of Elmwood. Most of the men 
seemed to be asleep, for snores issued from sundry tents. 
In others there were low murmurings, perhaps of conversa- 
tion, perhaps of prayer, for once Stead heard the hum of 
an “ Amen.^^ One or two men were about, and Jeph in- 
quired of one if the Captain were still up, and heard that 
he was engaged in exercise with the godly Colonel Benbow. 

Their quarters were in one of the best houses of the lit- 
tle village, where light gleamed from the window, and an 
orderly stood within the door, to whom Jeph spoke, and 
who replied that they were just in time. In fact two offi- 
cers in broad hats and cloaks were just coming out, and 
Stead admired Jeph^s military salute to them ere he en- 
tered the farm-house kitchen, where two more gentlemen 
sat at the table with a rough plan of the town laid before 
them. 


88 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“ Back again, Kenton/^ said his captain in a friendly 
tone. “ Hast heard aught of thy brethren 

‘‘ Yes, sir, I have found them well and in good heart, 
and have brought one with me. 

“ A helper in the good cause? Heaven be gracious to 
thee, my son. Thou art but young, yet strength is vouch- 
safed to the feeble hands. 

“ Please, sir, said Steadfast, who was twisting his hat 
about, “ l\e got to mind the others, and work for them.^^ 

‘‘Yea, sir,^^ put in Jeph, “there be ihree younger at 
home whom he can not leave. I brought him, sir, to crave 
from you a protection for the corn and cattle that are in a 
sort mine own, being my father^s eldest son. They are all 
the poor children have to live on. 

“ Thou shalt have it,^^ said the captain, drawing his 
writing materials nearer to him. “ There, my lad. It 
may be thou dost serve thy Maker as well by the plow as 
by the sword. 

Steadfast pulled his forelock, thanked the captain, was 
reminded of the word for the night, and safely reached 
home again. 


CHAPTER XII. 

FAREWELL TO THE CAVALIERS. 

If no more our banners shew 
Battles won and banners taken. 

Still in death, defeat, and woe, 

Ours be loyalty unshaken. 

Scott. 

The next day the whole family turned out to gather in 
the corn. Rusha was making attempts at reaping, while 
Emlyn played with little Ben, who toddled about, shouting 
and chasing her in and out among the shocks. How and 
again they paused at the low, thunderous growl of the 
great guns in the distance, in strange contrast to their 


UNDER THE STORM. 


89 


peaceful work, and once a foraging party of troopers rode 
up to the gate of the little field, but Steadfast met them 
there, and showed the oflB.cer Captain Venn^s paper. 

“ So you belong to Kenton of Venn^s Valiants? It is 
well. A blessing on your work!^^ said the stern dark-faced 
officer, and on he went, happily not seeing Emlyn make an 
ugly face and clinch her little fist behind him. 

“ How can you. Stead ?"^ she cried. “ I^d rather be 
cursed than blessed by such as he!’^ 

Stead shook his head slowly. “ A blessing is better 
than a curse any way,’^ said he, but his mind was a good 
deal confused between the piety and good conduct of these 
Roundheads, in contrast with their utter contempt of the 
Church, and rude dealing with all he had been taught to 
hold sacred. 

His harvest was, however, the matter in hand, and the 
little patch of corn was cut and bound between him and 
his sisters, without further interruption. The sounds of 
guns had ceased early in the day, and a neighbor who had 
ventured down to the camp to offer some apples for sale 
leaned over the gate to wonder at the safety of the crop, 
“ though to be sure the soldiers were very civil, if they 
would let alone preaching at you;^’ adding that there was 
like to be no more fighting, for one of the gentlemen in- 
side had ridden out with a white fiag, and it was said the 
Prince was talking of giving in.^"* 

“Give in!’^ cried Emlyn, setting her teeth. “Never. 
The Prince will soon make an end of the rebels, and then 
I shall ride-a-cock horse with our regiment again! I shall 
laugh to see the canting rogues run!’" 

But the first thing Steadfast heard the next day was that 
the royal standard had come down from the Cathedral 
tower. He had gone up to Elmwood to get some provi- 
sions, and Tom Oates, who spent most of his time in gaz- 
ing from the steeple, assured him that if he would come up, 
he would see for himself that the flags were changed. In- 


90 


UNDER THE STORM. 


deed, some of the foot soldiers who had been quartered in 
the village to guard the roads had brought the certain tid- 
ings that the city had surrendered and that the malignants, 
as they called the Royalists, were to march out that after- 
noon, by the same road as that by which the parliamentary 
army had gone out two years before. 

This would be the only chance for Emlyn to rejoin her 
father or to learn his fate. The little thing was wild with 
excitement at the news. Disdainfully she tore off what 
she called Rushan’s Puritan rags, though as that offended 
maiden answered “ her' own were real rags in spite of all 
the pains Patience had taken with them. Nothing would 
make them tidy,^^ and Rusha pointed to a hopeless stain 
and to the frayed edges past mending. 

“ I hate tidiness. Only Puritan rebels are tidy!’’ 

“ We are not Puritans!” cried Rusha. 

Emlyn laughed. ‘^Hark at your names,” she said. 

And what’s that great rebel rogue of a brother of 
yours?” 

“Oh! he is Jeph! He ran away to the wars! But 
Stead isn’t a Puritan,” cried Rusha, growing more ear- 
nest. “ He always goes to church — real church down in 
Bristol. And poor father was church-martin, and knew all 
the parson’s secrets.” 

“ Hush, Rusha,” said Patience, not much liking this 
disclosure, however Jerusha might have come by the knowl- 
edge, “ you and Emlyn don’t want to quarrel when she is 
just going to say good-bye!” 

This touched the little girls. Rush had been much en- 
livened by the little fairy who had seen so much of the 
world, and had much more playfulness than the hard- 
worked little woodland maid; and Emlyn, who in spite of 
her airs, knew that she had been kindly treated, was drawn 
toward a companion of her own age, was very fond of little 
Ben, and still more so of Steadfast. 


UNDER THE STORM. 91 

Ben cried, “ Em not go-/’ and Rusha held her hand and 
begged her not to forget. 

“ Oh, no, I won't forget you," said Einlyn, “ and when 
we come back with the King and Prince, and drive the 
Roundhead raganiuffins out of Bristol, then I'll bring 
Stead a protection for Oroppie and Daisy and all, a silver 
bodkin for you, and a Flanders lace collar for Patience, 
and a gold chain for Stead, and — But oh! wasn’t that a 
trumpet? Stead! Stead! We must go, or we shall miss 
them." Then as she hugged and kissed them, “ I'll tell 
Sir Harry and my lady how good you have been to me, and 
get my lady to make you a tirewoman, Rusha. And dear, 
dear little Ben shall be a king's guard all in gold." 

Ben had her last smothering kiss, and Rusha began to 
cry and sob as the gay little figure, capering by Stead's 
side, disappeared between the stems of the trees making an 
attempt, which Steadfast instantly quenched, at singing 

“ The king shall enjoy his own again.” 

Patience did not feel disposed to cry. She liked the 
child, and was grieved to think what an uncertain lot was 
before the merry little being, but her presence had made 
Rusha and Ben more troublesome than they had ever been 
in their lives before, and there was also the anxiety lest her 
unguarded tongue should offend Jeph and his friends. 

Emlyn skipped along by Steadfast's side, making him 
magnificent promises. They paused by the ruins of the 
farm where Stead still kept up as much of the orchard and 
garden as he could with so little time and so far from home, 
and Emlyn filled her skirt with rosy-cheeked apples, saying 
in a pretty gentle manner, “ they were such a treat to our 
poor rogues on a dusty march," and Stead aided her by 
carrying as many as he could. 

However, an occasional bugle note, clouds of dust on 
the road far below in the valley, and a low, dull tramp 
warned them to come forward, and station themselves in 


92 


UNDEK THE STORM. 


the hedge above the deep lane where Steadfast had once 
watched for his brother. Only a few of the more advent- 
urous village lads were before them now, and when Stead 
explained that the little wench wanted to watch for her fa- 
ther, they were kind in helping him to perch her in the 
hollow of a broken old pollard, where she could see, and 
not be seen. For the poor camp maiden knew the need of 
caution. She drew Steadfast close to her, and bade him 
not show himself till she told him, for some of the wilder 
sort would blaze away their pistols at anything, especially 
when they had had any good ale, or were out of sorts. 

Poor fellows, there was no doubt of their being out of 
sorts, as they tramped along, half hidden in dust, even the 
officers, who rode before them, with ragged plumes and 
slouched hats. The silken banners, which they had been 
allowed to carry out, because of their prompt surrender, 
hung limp and soiled, almost like tokens of a defeat, and if 
any one of those spectators behind the hawthorns had been 
conversant with Roman history, it would have seemed to 
them like the passing under the yoke, so dejected, nay, 
ashamed was the demeanor of the gentlemen. Emlyn whis- 
pered name after name as they went by, but even she was 
hushed and overawed by the spectacle, as four abreast these 
sad remnants of the royal army marched along the lane, 
one or two trying to whistle, a few more talking in under- 
tones, but all soon dying away, as if they were too much 
out of heart to keep anything up. 

She scarcely stirred while the infantry, who were by far 
the most numerous, were going by, only naming corps or 
officer to Stead, then there came an interval, and the tread 
of horses and clank of their trappings could be heard. 
Then she almost forgot her precautions in her eagerness to 
crane forward. “They are coming!"^ she said. “All 
there are of them will be a guard for the Prince. 

Stead felt a strange thrill of pain as he remembered the 
terrible scene when he had last beheld that tall, slight 


UNDER THE STORM. 


93 


young figure, and dark face, now far sterner and sadder 
than in those early days, as Eupert went to meet the bit- 
terest hour of his life. 

Several gentlemen rode with him, whom Emlyn named 
as his staff, and then came more troopers, not alike in 
dress, being, inffact, remnants of shattered regiments. She 
was trembling all over with eagerness, standing up, and so 
leaning forward, that she might have tumbled into the lane, 
had not Steadfast held her. 

At last came a scream. “ There's Sir Harry! There's 
Dick! There's Staines! Oh! Dick, Dick, where's father?" 

There was a halt, and bronzed faces looked up. 

“ Ha! Who's there?" 

“I! I! Emlyn. Oh! Dick, is father coming?" 

“ Halloo, little one! Art thou safe after all?" 

“ I am, I am. Father! father! Come! Where is he?" 

“ It is poor Gaythorn's little wench," explained one of 
the soldiers, as Sir Harry, a gray-haired man, looking worn 
and weary, turned back, while Steadfast helped the child 
out on the bank with some difficulty, for her extreme haste 
had nearly brought her down, and she stood courtesying, 
holding out her arms, and quivering with hope that began 
to be fear. 

“Poor child!" were the old gentleman's first words. 
“ And where were you?" 

“ Please your honor, father left me in the thorn brake," 
said Emlyn, “ and said he would come for me, but he did 
not; it got dark, and this country lad found me, and took 
me home. Is father coming, your honor?" 

“ Ah! my poor little maid, your father will never come 
again," said Sir Harry, sadly. “ He went down by the 
mill stream. I saw him fall. What is to be done for 
her?" he added, turning to a younger gentleman, who 
rode by him, as the child stood as if it were stunned for a 
moment. “ This is the worst of it all. Heaven knows we 
freely sacrifice ourselves in the cause of Church and King, 


94 


UlTDER THE ST0R3r. 


but it is hard to sacrifice others. Here are these faithful 
servants, their home broken up with ours, their children 
dying, and themselves killed — she, by the brutes after 
Naseby, he, in this last gkitmish. ^Tis enough to break a 
man^s heart. And what is to become of, this poor little 
maid?^^ 

“ Oh! 1^11 go with your honor,^^ cried Emlyn, stretching 
out her arms. “ I can ride behind Dick, and 1^11 give no 
one any trouble. Oh! take me, sir.^^ 

It can not be done, my poor child, said Sir Harry. 
‘‘ We have no women with us now, and we have to make 
our way to Newark by forced marches to His Majesty. I 
have no ■ choice but to bestow you somewhere till better 
times come. Hark you, my good lad, she says you found 
her, and have been good to her. Would your mother take 
charge of her? I’ll leave what I can with you, and when 
matters are quiet, my wife, or the child’s kindred, will send 
after her. Will your father and mother keep her for the 
present?” 

‘‘ I have none,” said Steadfast. “ My father was killed 
in his own yard by some soldiers who wanted to drive our 
cows. l^Iother had died before, but my sister and I made 
a shift to take care of the little ones in a poor place of our 
own.” 

And can you take the child in? You seem a good lad. ” 

“ We will do our best for her, sir.” 

What’s your name?” and “ Where do you live?” 
followed. And as Steadfast replied the old Cavalier took 
out his tablets and noted them, adding, “ Then you and 
your sister will be good to her till we can send after her.” 

“ We will treat her like our little sister, sir.” 

“ And here’s something for her to keep for the present, 
little enough I am afraid, but we poor Cavaliers have not 
much left. The King’s men were well to do when I heard 
last of them, and they will make it up by and b 3 ^ Or if 
uot, my boy, can you do this for the love of God?” 


UNDER THE S^ORM. 


95 


“ Yes, sir/ ^ said Steadfast, looking up with his honest 
eyes, and touching his forelock at the holy Name. 

“ Here, then,^^ and Sir Harry held out two gold pieces, 
to which his companion added one, and two or three of 
the troopers, saying something about poor Gaythorn’s little 
maid, added some small silver coins. There was some- 
thing in Steadfast’s mind that would have preferred declin- 
ing all payment, but he was a little afraid of Patience’s dis- 
may at having another mouth to provide for all the winter, 
and he thought too that Jeph’s anger at the adoption of 
the Oanaanitish child might be averted if it were a matter 
of business and payment, so he accepted the sum, thanked 
Sir Harry and the rest, and renewed his promise to do the 
best in his power for the little maiden. He rather won- 
dered that no questions were asked as to which side he 
held; but Sir Harry had no time to inquire, and could 
only hope that the honest, open face, respectful manner, 
clean dress, and the kindness which had rescued the child 
on the battle-field were tokens that he might be trusted to 
take care of the poor little orphan. Besides, many of the 
country people were too ignorant to understand the differ- 
ence between the sides, but only took part with their 
squire, or if they loved their clergyman, clung to him. So 
the knight would not ask any questions, and only further 
called out ‘‘ Pare thee well, then, poor little maid, we will 
send after thee when we can,” and then giving a sharp, 
quick order, all the little party galloped off to overtake the 
rest. 

Emlyn had been" bred up in too much awe of Sir Harry 
to make objections, but as her friends rode off she gave a 
sharp shriek, screamed out one name after another, and 
finally threw herself down on the road bank in a wild pas- 
sion of grief, anger, and despair, and when Steadfast would 
have lifted her up and comforted her, she kicked and 
fought him away. Presently he tried her again, begging 
her to come home. 


96 


UNDER THE STORH. 


“I won^t! I won^fc go to your vile, tumble-down, 
itoundhead, crop-eared hole!^^ she sobbed out. 

“ But, Sir Harry— 

“ I wonH! 1 say.^^ 

He was at his wits’ end, but after all, the sound of other 
steps coming up startled her into composing herself and 
sitting up. 

“ Halloo, Stead Kenton! Got this little puppet on your 
hands?” said young Oates. “ Halloo, mistress, you squeal 
like a whole litter of pigs.” 

. “ I am to take charge of her till her friends can send 
for her,” said Stead, with protecting dignity. 

And that will be a long day! Ho, little wench, where 
didst get that sweet voice?” 

“ Hush, Tom! the child has only just heard that her fa- 
ther is dead. ” 

This silencd the other lads, and Emlyn’s desire to get 
away from them accomplished what Steadfast wished, she 
put her hand into his and let him lead her away, and as 
there were sounds of another troop of cavalry coming up 
the lane, the boys did not attempt to follow her. She made 
no more resistance, though she broke into fresh fits of 
moaning and crying all the way home, such as went to 
Steadfast’s heart, though he could not find a word to com- 
fort her. 

Patience was scarcely delighted when Eusha darted in, 
crying out that Emlyn had come back again, but perhaps 
she was not surprised. She took the poor worn-out little 
thing in her arms, and rocked her, saying kind, tender lit- 
tle words, while Steadfast looked on, wondering at what 
girls could do, but not speaking till, finding that Emlyn 
was fast asleep. Patience laid her down on the bed without 
waking her, and then had time to listen to Stead’s account 
of the interview with Sir Harry Blythedale. 

“ I could not help it. Patience,” he said, “ we couldn’t 
leave the poor fatherless child out on the hedge- side.” 


UNDER THE STORM. 


97 


“ No/^ said Patience, “ we can’t but have her, as the 
gentleman said, for the love of God. He has taken care 
of us, so we ought to take care of the fatherless — like our- 
selves.” 

“ That’s right. Patience, said Steadfast, much relieved 
in his mind, “ and see here!” 

“ I wonder you took that. Stead, and the poor gentlemen 
so ill off themselves.” 

“ ell. Patience, I thought if you would not have her. 
Goody Grace might for the pay, but then who knows when 
any more may come?” 

“ Ay,” said Patience, “ we must keep her, though she 
will be a handful. Any way, all this must be laid out for 
her, and, the first chance I have, some shall be in decent 
clothes. I can’t a-bear to see her in those dirty gewgaws.” 


CHAPTEE XIIL 

GODLY VENN’S TROOP. 

Ye abbeys and ye arches, 

Ye old cathedrals dear, 

The hearts that love you tremble. 

And your enemies have cheer. 

Bp. Cleveland Coxe. 

“ What would Jeph say?” was the thought of both 
Steadfast and Patience, as Emlyn ran about with Kusha 
and Ben, making herself tolerably happy and enlivening 
them all a good deal. After one fight she found that she 
must obey Patience, though she made no secret that she 
liked the sober young mistress of the hut much less than 
the others, and could even sometimes get Steadfast to think 
her hardly used, but he seldom showed that feeling, for he 
had plenty of sense, and could not bear to vex his sister; 
besides, he saw there would be no peace if her authority 

4 


98 


UNDER THE STORM. 


was not supported. It was a relief that there was no visit 
from Jeph for some little time, though the fighting was all 
over, and people were going in and out of Bristol as before. 

Stead took the donkey with the panniers full of apples 
and nuts on market-day, and a pile of fowls and ducks on 
its back, while he carried a basket of eggs on his arm, and 
in his head certain instructions from Patience about the 
grogram and linen he was to purchase for Emlyn, in the 
hope of making her respectable before Jeph^s eyes should 
rest upon her. Stead's old customers were glad to see him 
again, especially Mrs. Lightfoot, who had Dr. Eales once 
again in her back rooms, keeping out of sight, while the 
good Dean was actually in prison for using the Prayer-book. 
Three soldiers were quartered upon her at the Wheatsheaf, 
and though, on the whole, they were more civil and much 
less riotous than some of her Cavalier lodgers had been, 
she was always in dread of their taking offense at the doc- 
tor and hauling him off to jail. 

Steadfast confided to her Patience's commission, which 
she undertook to execute herself. It included a spinning- 
wheel, for Patience was determined to teach Emlyn to spin, 
an art of which no respectable woman from the Queen 
downward was ignorant in those days. As to finding his 
brother, the best way would be to ask the soldiers who 
were smoking in the kitchen where he was likely to be. 

They said that the faithful and valiant Jephthah Ken- 
ton of Venn's horse would be found somewhere about the 
great steeple house, profanely called the Cathedral, for 
there the troops were quartered; and thither accordingly 
Stead betook himself, starting as he saw horses gearing or 
being groomed on the sward in the close which had always 
been kept in such perfect order. Having looked in vain 
outside for his brother, he advanced into the building, but 
he had only just had a view of horses stamping between 
the pillars, the floor littered down with straw, a fire burning 
in one of the niches, and soldiers lying about, smoking or 


UNDER THE STORM. 


99 


eating, in all manner of easy, lounging attitudes, when 
suddenly there was a shout of “ Prelatist, Idolater, Baal- 
worshiper. Papist,^ ^ and to his horror he found it was all 
directed toward himself. They were pointing to his head, 
and two of them had caught him by the shoulders, when 
another voice rose: “Ha! Let him alone. I say. Bill! 
Faithful! It^s my brother. He knows no better!'^ Then 
dashing up, Jeph rammed the great hat down over Stead^s 
brow, eyes and all, and called out: “ Whoever touches my 
brother must have at me first. 

“ There, said one of the others, “ the old Adam need 
not be so fierce in thee, brother Jephthah! No one wants 
to hurt the lad, young prelatist though he be, so he will 
make amends by burning their superstitious books on the 
fire, even as Jehu burnt the worshipers of Baal.^^ 

Steadfast felt somewhat as Christians of old may have 
felt when called on to throw incense on the altar of Jupi- 
ter, as a handful of pages torn from a Prayer-book was 
thrust into his hands. Words did not come readily to him, 
but he shook his head and stood still, perhaps stolid in re- 
sistance. 

“ Come,^^ said Jeph, laying hold of his shoulder to 
drag him along. 

“ I cannot; Tis Scripture,^ ^ said Stead, as in his distress 
his eye fell on the leaves in his hand, and he read aloud to 
prove it: 

“ Thy Word is a lantern unto my feet, and a light unto 
my path, 

There was one moment’s pause. Perhaps the men had 
absolutely forgotten how much of their cherished Bible was 
integral in the hated Prayer-book; at any rate they were 
enough taken aback to enable Jeph to pull his brother out 
at the door, not without a fraternal cuff or two, as he ex- 
claimed : 

“ Thou foolish fellow! ev^r running into danger for very 
dullness.'^ 


100 


UNDER THE STORM. 


What have I done, Jeph?^^ asked poor Stead, still be- 
wildered. 

“ Done! Why, doffed thy hat, after the superstitious 
and idolatrous custom of our fathers. ** 

‘‘ How can it be idolatrous? ^Twas God^s house, said 
Stead. 

‘‘ Ay, there thou art in the gall of bitterness. Know^st 
thou not that no house is more holy than another?^ ^ and 
Jeph would have gone on for some time longer, but that 
he heard sounds which made him suspect that some one 
had condemned the version of the Psalms as prelatical and 
profane, and that his comrades might yet burst forth to 
visit their wrath upon his young brother, whom he there- 
fore proceeded to lead out of sight as fast as possible into 
the Deanes garden, where he had the entree ^ being 
orderly to Captain Venn, who, with other officers, abode 
in the Deanery. 

There, controversy being dropped for the moment. 
Stead was able to tell his brother of his expedition, and 
how he had been obliged to keep the child, for very pity^’s 
sake, even if her late father^ s master had not begged him 
to do so, and give an earnest of the payment. 

Jeph laughed a little scornfully at the notion of a wild 
Cavalier ever paying, but he was not barbarous, and al- 
lowed that there was no choice in the matter, as she could 
not be turned out to starve. 

When he heard that Stead had come with market pro- 
duce he was displeased at it not having been brought up 
for the table of his officers, assuring Stead that they were 
not to be confounded with the roistering, penniless malig- 
nants, who robbed instead of paying. Stead said he al- 
ways supplied Mistress Lightfoot, but this was laughed to 
scorn. “ The rulers of the army of saints had a right to 
be served first, above all before one who was believed to 
harbor the idolater, even the priest of the groves. 

Jeph directed that the next supply should come to the 


UNDER THE STORM. 


101 


Deanery, as one who had the right of ownership, and 
Stead submitted, only with the secret resolve that Dr. 
Dales should not want his few eggs nor his pat of fresh 
butter. 

Jeph was not unkind to Stead, and took him to dine 
with the other attendants of the officers in the very stone 
hall where he had eaten that Christmas dinner some twenty 
months before. There was a very long grace pronounced 
extempore, and the guests were stout, resolute, grave- 
looking men, who kept on their steeple-crowned hats all 
the time and conversed in low, deep voices, chiefly, as far as 
Stead could gather, on military matters, but they seemed 
to appreciate good beef and ale quite as much as any Cav- 
alier trooper could have done. One of them noticing 
Stead, asked whether he had come to take service with the 
saints and enjoy their dominion, but Jeph answered for 
him that his call lay at home among those of his own 
household, until his heart should be whole with the cause. 

On the whole Stead was proud to see Jeph holding his 
own, though the youngest among these determined-looking 
men. These two years had made a man of the rough, idle, 
pleasure-loving boy, and a man after the Ironside’s fash- 
ion, grave, self-contained and self-depending. Stead had 
been more like the elder than the younger brother in old 
times, but he felt Jeph immeasurably his elder in the new, 
unfamiliar atmosphere; and yet the boy had a strong sense 
that all was not right; that these were interlopers in the 
kind old Dean’s house; that the talk about Baal was mere 
absurdity; and the profanation of the Cathedral would 
have been utterly shocking to his good father. His mind, 
however, worked slowly, and he would have had nothing to 
say even if he could have ventured to speak; but he was 
very anxious to get away; and when Jeph would have kept 
him to hear the sergeant expound a chapter of Revelation, 
he pleaded the necessity of getting home in time to milk 
the cows, and made liis escape. 


102 


UKDEK THE STORM. 


On the whole it was a relief that Jeph was too much oc- 
cupied with his military duties to make visits to his home. 
It might not have been over easy to keep the peace between 
him and Emlyn, fiery little Eoyalist as she was, and too 
much used to being petted and fascinating every one by 
her saucy audacity to be likely to be afraid of him. If 
Patience crossed her she would have recourse to Stead, 
and he could seldom resist her coaxing, or be entirely dis- 
abused of the notion that his sister expected too much of 
her. And perhaps it was true. Patience was scarcely 
likely to understand differences of character and tempera- 
ment, and not merely to recollect that Emlyn was only 
eighteen months younger than she had been when she had 
been forced into the position of the house mother. So, 
while Emlyn ’s wayward fancies were a great trial. Stead- 
fastis sympathy with them was a greater one. 

Stead continued to see Jeph when taking in the market 
produce, for which he was always duly paid. Jeph also 
wished the whole family to come in on Sunday to profit by 
the preaching of some of the great Independent lights; but 
Stead, after trying it once, felt so sure that Patience would 
be miserable at anything so unaccustomed, so thunderous, 
and, as it seemed to him, so abusive, that he held to it that 
the distance was too great, and that the cattle could not be 
left. The soldiery seemed to him to spend their spare 
time in defacing the many churches of the city, chiefly in 
order to do what they called purifying them from all idols, 
in which term they included every sort of carving or pict- 
ure, or even figures on monuments. 

And in this work of destruction a chest containing 
church plate had been come upon, making their work 
greedy instead of only mischievous. When all the churches 
in Bristol had been ransacked, they began to extend their 
search to the parish churches in the neighborhood, and 
Stead began to be very anxious, though he hoped and be- 
lieved that the cave was a perfectly safe place. 


tJHDEIl THE STORM. 


loa 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE QUESTION. 

Dogged as does it. 

Trollope. 

“ Stead, Stead, cried Rusha, running up to him, as 
he was slowly digging over his stubble field to prepare it 
for the next crop, “ the soldiers are in Elmwood. 

“ Yes,^^ said Emlyn, coming up at the same time, 
“ they are knocking about everything in the church and 
pulling up the fioor.^^ 

“ Patience sent us to get some salt,^^ explained Rusha, 
“ and we saw them from Dame Redman^s door. She told 
us we had better get off and get home as fast as we could. 

“ But I thought we would come and tell you/^ added 
Emlyn, and then you could get out the long gun and 
shoot them as they come into the valley — that is if you ca7i 
take aim — but I would load and show you how, and then 
they would think it was a whole ambush of honest men. 

‘‘Ay, and kill us all — and serve us right, said Stead. 
“ They donH want to hurt us if we donH meddle with 
them. But there’s a good wench. Rush, drive up the 
cows and sheep this way so that I can have an eye on them, 
and show Captain Venn’s paper, if any of those fellows 
should take a fancy to them. ” 

“They are digging all over the old parson’s garden,” 
said Rusha, as she obeyed. 

“ Was Jeph there?” asked Stead. 

“ I didn’t see him,” said the child. 

Steadfast was very uneasy. That turning up the par- 
son’s garden looked as if they might be in search of the silver 
belonging to the Church, but after all they were unlikely 
to connect him with it, and it was wiser to go on with his 


104 


UNDER THE STORM. 


regular work^ and manifest no interest in the mattery be- 
sides that, every spadeful he heaved up, every chop he gave 
the stubble, seemed to be a comfort, while there was a 
prayer on his soul all the time that he might be true to his 
trust. 

By and by he saw Tom Oates running and beckoning to 
him: “ Stead, Stead Kenton, you are to come.-’^ 

What should I come for?^^ said Stead, gruffly. 

“ The soldiers want you.’^ 

“ What call have they to me?^^ 

They be come to cleanse the steeple house, they says, 
and take the spoil thereof, and they’ve been routling over 
the floor and parson’s garden like so many hogs, and are 
mad because they can’t find nothing, and Thatcher Jerry 
says, says he, ‘Poor John Kenton as was shot was church- 
warden and was very great with Parson. If anybody 
knows where the things is ’tis Steadfast Kenton.’ So the 
corporal says, ‘ Is this so, Jephthah Kenton.^’ and Jeph, 
standing up in his big boots, says, ‘ Ay, corporal, my fa- 
ther was yet in the darkness of prelacy, and was what in 
their blindness they call a Church- warden, but as to my 
brother, that’s neither here nor there, he were but a boy 
and not like to know more than I did. ’ But the corporal 
said: ‘That we will see. Is the lad here?’ So I ups and 
said nay, but I’d seen you digging your croft, and then 
they bade me fetch you. So you must come, willy-nilly, 
or they may send worse after you.” 

Stead was a little consoled by hearing that his brother 
was there. He suspected that Jeph would have considera- 
tion enough for his sisters and for the property that he con- 
sidered his own to be unwilling to show the way to their 
valley; and he also reflected that it would be well that 
whatever might happen to himself should be out of sight 
of his sisters. Therefore he decided on following Oates, 
going through on the way the whole question whether to 
deny all knowledge, and yet feeling that the things belong- 


UKDEK THE STORM. 


105 


ing to God should not be shielded by untruth. His reso- 
lution finally was to be silent, and let them make what 
they would out of that, and Stead, though it was long since 
he had put it on, had a certain sullen air of stupidity such 
as often belongs to such natures as his, and which Jeph 
knew full well in him. 

They came in sight of the village green where the 
soldiers were refreshing themselves at what once had been 
the Elmwood Arms, for though not given to excess, total 
abstinence formed no part of the discipline of the Puri- 
tans; and one of the men started forward, and seizing hold 
of Steadfast by the shoulder, exclaimed : 

“ As I live, Tis the young prelatist who bowed himself 
down in the house of Rimmon! Come on, thou seed of 
darkness, and answer for thyself. 

If he had only known it, he was making the part of 
dogged silence and resistance infinitely easier to Steadfast 
by the rudeness and abuse, which, even in a better cause, 
would have made it natural to him to act as he was doing 
now, giving the soldier all the trouble of dragging him on- 
ward and then standing with his hands in his pockets like 
an image of obstinacy. 

‘‘ Speak, said the corporal, “ and it shall be the better 
for thee. Hast thou any knowledge where the priests of 
Baal have bestowed the vessels of their mockery of wor- 
ship."" 

Stead moved not a muscle of his face. He had no 
acquaintance with priests of Baal or their vessels, so that 
he was not in the least bound to comprehend, and one of 
them exclaimed, “ The oaf knows not your meaning, cor- 
poral. Speak plainer to his Somerset ears. He knows not 
the tongue of the saints. "" 

Ho, then, thou child of darkness. Know"st thou 
where the mass-mongering silver and gold of this church 
be hidden from them of whom it is written ‘ haste to the 


106 UNDER THE STORM. 

spoil Come, speak out. A crown if thou dost speak — 
the lash if thou wilt not answer, thou dumb dog. 

Stead was really not far removed from a dumb dog. All 
his faculties were so entirely wrought up to resistance that 
he had hardly distinguished the words. 

“ Come, come, Stead,^^ said Jeph, “ thou art too old for 
thine old sulky moods. Speak up, and tell if thou know'st 
aught of the Communion Cup and dish, or it will be the 
worse for thee. Yes or no?^^ 

Stead made a move with his shoulder to push away his 
brother, and still stood silent. 

“ There, said Jeph, “ it is all Faithfurs fault for his 
rough handling. His back is set up. It was always so 
from a boy, and youTl get naught out of him.^^ 

“Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, but the 
rod of correction shall drive it far from him, ” quoted the 
Corporal, taking up a wagoner’s whip which stood by the 
inn door, and the like of which had no doubt once been a 
more familiar weapon to him than the sword. 

“ Speak lad — or — ” and as no speech came, the lash de- 
scended, on Stead’s shoulders, not, however, hurting him 
much save where it grazed the skin of his face. 

“ Now? Not a word? Take off his leathern coat. 
Faithful, then shall he feel the reward of sullenness. ” 

That Jeph did not interfere, while Faithful and another 
soldier tugged off his leathern coat, buffeting and kicking 
him roughly as they did so, brought additional hardness to 
Stead. He had been flogged in his time before, and not 
without reason, and had taken a pride in not giving in, or 
crying out for pain; and the ancient habit acquired in a 
worse cause, came to his help. He scarcely recollected 
the cause of his jesistance; all his powers were concentrated 
in holding out, and when after another, “ Now, vile pre- 
latic spawn, is thy heart still hardened? Yes or no?” the 
terrible whip came stinging and biting down- on his 
shoulders and back, only protected by his shirt, he was en- 


tTKDER THE STORM. 10 ? 

tirely bound up in the determination to endure the pain 
without a groan or cry. 

But after blows enough had fallen to mark the shirt with 
streaks of blood, Jeph could bear it no longer. 

“ Holdl^^ he said. “You will never make him speak 
that way. Bather and mother never could. Strokes do 
but harden him.^^ 

“ The sure token of a fool,^^ said the corporal, and pre- 
pared for another lash. 

“ ^Tis plain he knows, said one of the others. “ He 
would never stand this if a word would save him.^^ 

“ Mere malice and obstinacy,^ ^ said Faithful, “ and will- 
fulness. He will not utter a word. I would beat it out of 
him, as I was wont with our old ass. " 

Another stroke descended, worse than all the others 
after a brief interval, but Jeph again spoke, “ Look you, 
I know the lad of old and you’ll get no more that way 
than if you were flogging the sign-post there. Whether 
he knows where the things are or not, the temper that is 
in him. will never answer while you beat him, were it to 
save his life. Leave him to me, and ITl be bound to get 
an answer from him. ” 

“ And I am constable, and I must say,” said Black- 
smith Blane, moving forward, with a bar of iron in his 
hand, and four or five stout men behind him, “ that to 
come and abuse and flog a hard-working, fatherless lad, 
that never did you no harm, nor any one else, is not what 
honest men look for from soldiers that talk so big about 
Parliament and rights and what not!” 

“ ’Twas for contumacy,” began the corporal. 

“ Contumacy forsooth, as though ’twas the will of the 
honest gentlemen in Parliament that boys should be mis- 
used for nothing at all!” 

“ If the young dog would have spoken,” began the cor- 
poral, but somehow he did not like the look of Blane’s iron 
bar, and thought it best to look up at the sun, and dis- 


108 


UNDER THE STORM. 


cover that it was time to depart if the party were to be in 
time for roll call. As it was a private marauding specula- 
tion, it might not be well to have complaints made to Cap- 
tain Venn, who never sanctioned plunder nor unnecessary 
violence. Even Jeph had to march off, and Steadfast, 
who had no mind to be pitied, nor asked by the neighbors 
what was the real fact, ha*d picked up his spade and jerkin, 
and was out of sight while the villagers were watching the 
soldiers away. 

The first thing he did was to give thanks in heart that 
he had been aided thus far not to betray his trust, and then 
to feel that Corporal Dodd^s hogging was a far severer 
matter than the worst chastisement he had ever received 
from his father, even when he kept Jeph^s secret about 
the stolen apples. Putting on his coat was impossible, 
and he was so stiff and sore that he could not hope to con- 
ceal his condition from Patience. 

At home all were watching for him. They ran up in 
anxiety, for one of the ever ready messengers of evil had 
rushed down the glen to tell Patience that the soldiers 
were beating Stead shamefully, and Jeph standing by not 
saying one word. Little Ben broke out with ‘ ‘ Poor, 
poor!” and Rusha burst into tears at sight of the blood, 
while Emlyn said, “Just what comes of going among the 
rascal Roundheads,’^ and Patience looked up at him and 
said, “Was it — r” he nodded, and she quietly said, “I’m 
giad.” He added, “ Jeph’s coming soon,” and she knew 
that the trial was not over. The brother and sister needed 
very few words to understand one another, and they were 
afraid to say anything that the younger ones could under- 
stand. Patience washed the weals with warm water and 
milk, and wrapped a cloak round him, but even the next 
morning, he could not use his arms without fresh bleeding, 
and the hindrance to the work was serious. He could do 
nothing but herd the cattle, and he was much inclined to 
drive them to the further end of the moorland where 


UNDER THE STORM. 


109 


Jephthali would hardly find him, but then he recollected 
that Patience would be left to bear the brunt ol the attack, 
so that he would not go far off, never guessing, poor fel- 
low, that in his dull, almost blundering fashion, he was 
doing like the heroes and the martyrs, but only feeling that 
he must keep his trust at all costs. 

Jeph, however, did not come that day or the next, so 
that inwardly, the wound-up feeling had passed into a 
weariness of expectation, and outwardly the stripes had 
healed enough for Stead to go about his work as usual only 
a little stiffly. He went into Bristol on market-day as 
usual, and then it was, on his way out that Jeph joined 
him, saying it was to bid Patience and the little ones fare- 
well, since the marching orders were for the morrow. He 
was unusually kind and good-natured; he had a load of 
comfits for Eusha and Ben, and a stout piece of woolen 
stuff for Patience which he said was such as he was told 
godly maidens wore, and which possibly the terror of his 
steel cap and corslet had cheapened at the mercer’s; also 
he had a large packet of tractates for Stead’s own reading, 
and he inquired whether they possessed a Bible. 

Stead wondering whether all this was out of regret at 
the treatment he had undergone, or whether it was to put 
him off his guard, and this occupied him when Jeph began 
to preach, as he did uninterruptedly for the last mile, with- 
out any of the sense, if there were any, reaching the mind 
of the auditor. 

They reached the hut, the gifts were displayed; and 
when the young ones, who were ajl a little afraid of the 
elder brother, had gone off to feast upon the sweets, Jeph 
began with inquiries after Steadfast’s back, and he replied 
that it was mending fast, while Patience exclaimed at the 
cruelty and wickedness of so using him. 

“ Why wouldn’t he speak then?” said Jeph. “ Yea or 
nay would have ended it in a moment, but that’s Stead’s 


110 


UNDER THE STORM. 


way. He looks like it now!"" and he did, elbows on knees, 
and chin on hands. 

“ Come now, Stead, thou canst speak to me! Was it 
all because Faithful hauled thee about?"" 

“ He did, and he had no call to,"" said Stead, surlily. 

“ Well, that"s true, but l"m not hauling thee. Tell me. 
Stead, I mind now that thou wast out with father that last 
day ere the Parson was taken to receive his deserts. I 
don"t believe that even thy churlishness would have stood 
such blows if thou hadst known naught of the idolatrous 
vessels, and couldst have saved thy skin by saying so! No 
answer. Why, what have these malignants done for thee 
that thou shouldst hold by them? Slain thy father! 
Burned thine house! No fault of theirs that thou art alive 
this day! Canst not speak?"" 

Jeph"s temper giving way at the provocation, he forgot 
his conciliatory intentions and seizing Stead by the collar 
shook him violently. Growler almost broke his chain with 
rage. Patience screamed and flew to the rescue, just as she 
had often done when they were all children together, and 
Jeph threw his brother from him so that he fell on the root 
of a tree, and lay for a moment or ^wo still, then picked 
himself up again evidently with pain, though he answered 
Patience cheerfully that it was naught. 

“ Thou art enough to drive a man mad with thy surly 
silence, "" exclaimed Jeph, whom this tussle had rendered 
much more like his old self, “ and after all, knowing that 
even though thou art not one of the holy ones, thou wilt 
not tell a lie, it comes to the same thing. I hnoio thou 
wottest where these things are, and it is only thy sullen 
scruples that hinder thee from speaking. Nevertheless, I 
shall leave no stone unturned till I And them! For what 
is written, ‘ Thou shalt break down their altars. ^ "" 

“ Jeph,"" said Stead, flrmly. “You left home because 
of your grief and rage at father"s death. Would you have 
me break the solemn charge he laid on me?"" 


UNDER THE STORM. 


Ill 


“ Father was a good man after his light," said Jeph, a 
little staggered, “ but that light was but darkness, and we 
to whom the day itself is vouchsafed are not bound by a 
charge laid on us in ignorance. Any way, he laid no bonds 
on me, but 1 must needs leave thee alone in thy foolishness 
of bondage! Come, Patience, wench, and aid me, I know 
this rock is honeycombed with caves, like a rabbit warren, 
no place so likely. 

“ I help thee — no indeed!^^ cried Patience. “ Would I 
aid thee to do what would most grieve poor father, that 
thou once mad'st such a work about! I should be afraid 
of his curse. " 

Possibly if Jeph had not pledged himself to his comrades 
to overcome his brother's resistance, and bring back the 
treasures, he might have desisted; but what he did was to 
call to Rusha to bring him a lantern, and show him the 
holes, promising her a tester if she would. She brought 
the lantern, but she was a timid, little, unenterprising 
thing, and was mortally afraid of the caverns, a fear that 
Patience had thought it well not to combat. Emlyn who 
had already scrambled all over the face of the slope, and 
peeped into all, could have told him a great deal more 
about them; but she hated the sight of a rebel, and sat on 
the ground making ugly faces and throwing little stones 
after him whenever his back was turned. 

Stead, afraid to betray by his looks of anxiety, when 
Jeph came near the spot, sat all the time with his elbows 
on his knees, and his hands over his face, fully trusting to 
what all had agreed at the time of the burial of the chest, 
that there was no sign to indicate its whereabouts. 

He felt rather than saw that Jeph, after tumbling out 
the straw and fern that served for fodder in the lower 
caves, where the sheep and pigs were sheltered in winter, 
had scrambled up to the hermit's chapel, when suddenly 
there was a shout, but not at all of exultation, and down 
among the bushes, lantern and all came the soldier, turn- 


112 


UNDER THE STORM. 


bling and crashing into the midst of an enormous bramble^ 
whence Stead pulled him out with the lantern flattened 
under him, and his first breathless words were — 

“ Beelzebub himself!’^ Then adding, as he stood up- 
right, “ he made full at me, and I saw his eyes glaring. I 
heard him groaning. It is an unholy popish place. No 
wonder 

Patience and Eusha were considerably impressed, for it 
was astonishing to see how horribly terrified and shaken 
was the warrior, who had been in two pitched battles, and 
Ben screamed, and needed to be held in Steady’s arms to 
console him. 

Jeph had no mind to pursue his researches any further. 
He only tarried long enough to let Patience pick out half 
a dozen thorns from his cheeks and hands, and to declare 
that if he had not to march to-morrow, he should bring 
that singular Christian man. Captain Venn, to exorcise the 
haunt of Apollyon. Wherewith he bade them all farewell, 
with hopes that by the time he saw them again they would 
have come to the knowledge of the truth. 

No sooner was he out of sight among the bushes than 
Emlyn seized on Eusha, and whirled her round in a dance 
as well as her more substantial proportions would permit, 
while Steadfast let his countenance expand into the broad 
grin that he had all this time been stifling. 

“ What do you think it was?"^ asked Patience, still awe- 
struck. 

“ Why — the old owl — and his own bad conscience. He 
might talk big, but he didn’t half like going against poor 
father. Thank God! He has saved His own, and that’s 
over!” 


UNDEE THE STOEM. 


113 


CHAPTER XV. 

A TABLE OF LOVE THE WILDEENESS. 

Yet along the Church’s sky 
Stars are scattered, pure and high; 

Yet her wasted gardens hear 
Autumn violets, sweet and rare, 

Relics of a spring-time clear. 

Earnests of a bright New-year. 

Keble. 

No more was heard or seen of Jephthah, or of Captain 
Venn^’s troop. The garrison within Bristol was small and 
unenterprising, and in point of fact the war was over. 
News traveled slowly, but Stead picked up scraps at Bris- 
tol, by which he understood that things looked very bad 
for the King. Moreover, Sir George Elmwood died of his 
wounds; poor old Lady Elmwood did not long survive 
him, and the estate, which had been left to her for her life, 
was sequestrated by the Parliament, and redeemed by the 
next heir after Sir George, so that there was an exchange 
of the Lord of the Manor. The new squire was an elderly 
man, hearty and good-natured, who did not seem at all dis- 
posed to interfere with any one on the estate. He was a 
Presbyterian, and was shocked to find that the church had 
been unused for three years. He had it cleaned from the 
accumulation of dirt and rubbish, the broken windows 
mended with plain glass, and the altar table put down in 
the nave, as it had been before Mr. Hoi worth ^s time; and 
he presented to the living Mr. Woodley, a scholarly looking 
person, who wore a black gown and collar and bands. 

The Elmwood folk were pleased to have prayers and ser- 
mon again, and Patience was glad that the children should 
not grow up like heathens; but her first church-going did 
not satisfy her entirely. 


114 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“ It is all strange/" she said to Stead, who had stayed 
with the cattle. “ He had no book, and it was all out of 
his own head, not a bit like old times. "" 

“ Of course not,"" said Emlyn. “ He had got no sur- 
plice, and I knew him for a prick-eared Koundhead! I 
should have run off home if you had not held me. Pa- 
tience. I"ll never go there again."" 

“lam sure you made it a misery to me, ti>ying to make 
Eusha and Ben as idle and restless as yourself,"" said Pa- 
tience. 

“ They ought not to listen to a mere Eoundhead sect- 
ary,"" said Emlyn, tossing her head. “ I couldn"t have 
borne it if I had not had the young ladies to look at. They 
had got silk hoods and curls and lace collars, so as it was a 
shame a mere Puritan should wear."" 

“ Oh, Emlyn, Emlyn, it is all for the outside,"" said Pa- 
tience. “ Now, I did somehow like to hear good words, 
though they were not like the old ones."" 

“ Good, indeed! from a trumpery Puritan."" 

Stead went to church in the afternoon. He was eight- 
een now, and that great struggle and effort had made him 
more of a man. He thought much when he was working 
alone in the fields, and he had spent his time on Sundays 
in reading his Bible and Prayer-book, and comparing them 
with Jeph"s tracts. Since Emlyn had come, he had made 
a corner of the cow-shed fit to sleep in, by stuffing the walls 
with dry heather, and the sweet breath of the cows kept it 
sufficiently warm, and on the winter evenings, he took a 
lantern there with one of Patience"s rush-lights, learned a 
text or two anew, and then repeated passages to himself 
and thought over them. What would seem intolerably 
dull to a lad now, was rest to one who had been rendered 
older than his age by sorrow and responsibility, and the 
events tiiat were passing led people to consider religious 
questions a great deal. 

But Stead was puzzled. The minister was not like the 


tJKBER THE STORM. 


115 


soldiers whom he had heard raving about the reign of the 
saints, and abusing the church. He prayed for the 
King's having a good deliverance from his troubles, and 
for the peace of the kingdom, and he gave out that there 
was to be a week of fasting, preaching, and preparation 
for the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. 

The better sort of people in the village were very much 
pleased, nobody except Goody Grace was dissatisfied, and 
people told her that was only because she was old and 
given to grumbling at everything new. Blane the Smith 
tapped Stead on the shoulder, and said, “ Hark ye, my 
lad. If it be true that thou wast in old Parson's secrets, 
now's the time for thou know'st what." 

Stead's mouth was open, and his face blank, chiefly be- 
cause he did not know what to do, and was taken by sur- 
prise, and Blane took it for an answer. 

“ Oh! if you don't know, that's another thing, but then 
'twas for nothing that the troopers flogged you? "Well," 
he muttered, as Stead walked off, “ that's a queer condi- 
tioned lad, to let himself be flogged, as I wouldn't whip a 
dog, all out of temper, because he wouldn't answer a ques- 
tion. But he's a good lad, and I'll not bring him into 
trouble by a word to squire or minister." 

The children went off to gather cowslips, and Sfead was 
able to talk it over with Patience, who at first was eager to 
be rid of the dangerous trust, and added, with a sigh, 
“ That she had never taken the Sacrament since the Easter 
before poor father was killed, and it must be nigh upon 
Whitsuhtide now. " 

“ That's true," said Stead, “ but nobody makes any 
count of holy days now. It don't seem right. Patience. " 

“ Not like what it used to be," said Patience. “ And 
yet this minister is surely a godly man." 

Father and parson didn't say aught about a godly 
man. They made me take my solemn promise that I'd 
only give the things to a lawfully ordained minister. " 


116 


’ UNDER THE STORM. 


“ He is a minister, and he comes by law,^^ argued Pa- 
tience. Do be satisfied. Stead. I"m always in fear now 
that folks guess we have somewhat in charge; and Emlyn 
is such a child for prying and chattering. And if they 
should come and beat thee again, or do worse. Oh, Stead ! 
surely you might give them up to a good man like that; 
Smith Blane says you ought 

“I doubt me! I know that sort don^t hold with 
Bishops, and, so far as I can see, by father^s old Prayer- 
book, a lawful minister must have a Bishop to lay hands 
on him,'^ said Stead, who had studied the subject as far as 
his means would allow, and had good though slow brains 
of his own, matured by responsibility. “ Ifil tell you 
what. Patience, Pll go and see Doctor Eales about it. I 
wot he is a minister of the old soft, that father would say I 
might trust. 

Dr. Eales was still living in Mrs. Lightfoot^s lodgings, 
at the sign of the Wheatsheaf, or more properly starving, 
for he had only ten pounds a year paid to him out of the 
benefice that had been taken away from him; and though 
that went further then than it would do now, it would not 
have maintained him, but that his good hostess charged 
him as little as she could afford, and he had also had a few 

9 

pupils among the gentry’s sons, but there were too many 
clergymen in the same straits for this to be a very profitable 
undertaking. There were no soldiers in Mrs. Idghtfoot’s 
house now, and the doctor lived more at large, but still 
cautiously, for in the opposite house, named the Ark, 
whose gable end nearly met the Wheatsheaf ’s, dwelf a rival 
baker, a Brownist, whose great object seemed to be to spy 
upon the clergyman, and have something to report against 
him, nor was Mrs. Lightfoot’s own man to be trusted. 
Stead lingered about the open stall where the bread was 
sold till no customer was at hand, and then mentioned 
under his breath to the good dame his desire to speak with 
her lodger. 


UKBEE THE STORM. 


117 


‘‘ Certainly/^ she said, but the Doctor was now with his 
pupils at Mistress Rivett^s. He always left them at eleven 
of the clock, more shame of Mrs. Rivett not to give the 
good man his dinner, which she would never feel. Stead- 
fast had better watch for him at the gate which opened on 
the down, for there he CQuld speak more privately and 
securely than at home. 

He took the advice, and passed away the time as best he 
could, learning on the way that a news letter had been re- 
ceived stating that the King was with the Scottish army at 
Newcastle, and that it was expected that on receiving their 
arrears of pay the Scots would surrender him to the Par- 
liament, a proceeding which the folk in the market-place 
approved or disapproved according to their politics. 

Mrs. RivetPs house stood a little apart from the town, 
with a court and gates opening on the road over the down; 
and just as eleven strokes were chiming from the town clock 
below, a somewhat bent, silver-haired man, in a square 
cap and black gown, leaning on a stick, came out of it. 
Stead, after the respectful fashion of his earlier days, put 
his knee to the ground, doffed his steeple-crowned hat and 
craved a blessing, both he and the Doctor casting a quick 
glance round so as to be sure there was no one in sight. 

Dr. Hales gave it earnestly, as one to whom it was a rare 
joy to find a country youth thus demanding it, and as he 
looked at the honest face he said : 

“ You are mine hostess’s good purveyor, methinks, to 
whom I have often owed a wholesome meal.” 

“ Steadfast Kenton, so please your reverence. There is 
a secret matter on which I would fain have your counsel, 
and Mistress Lightfoot thought I might speak to you here 
with greater safety. ” ^ 

“She did well. Speak on, my good boy, if we walked 
up and down here we shall be private. It does my heart 
good to commune with a faithful young son of the 
Church.” 


118 


tJKDER THE STORM. 


Steadfast told his story, at which the good old Canon 
was much affected. His brother Hoi worth, as he called 
him, was not in prison but in the Virginian plantations. 
He was still the only true minister of Elmwood, and Mr. 
Woodley, though owned by the present so-called law of the 
land, was not there rightly by the law of the Church, and, 
therefore. Stead was certainly not bound to surrender the 
trust to him, but rather the contrary. 

The Doctor could have gone into a long disquisition 
about Presbyterian Orders, contradicting the arguments 
many good and devout people adduced in favor of them, 
but there was little time, so he only confirmed with author- 
ity Stead^s belief that a Bishop^’s Ordination was indis- 
pensable to a true pastor, “ the only door by which to 
enter to the charge of the fold. 

Then came the other question of attendance on his min- 
istry, and whether to attend the feast given out for the 
Sunday week, after the long-forced abstinence: Patience % 
ever since the break-up of the parish; Steadfast^s, since 
the siege of Bristol. Dr. Bales considered, “ I can not 
bid you go to that in the efficacy of which neither you nor 
I believe, my son,^^ he said. “ It would not be with faith. 
Here, indeed, I have ministered privately to a few of the 
faithful in their own houses, but the risk is overgreat for 
you and your sister to join us, espied as we are. How is it 
with your home?^^ 

“ Oh, sir, would you even come thither?'^ exclaimed 
Steadfast, joyfully, and he described his ravine, which was 
of course known to the Elmwood neighbors, but very sel- 
dom visited by them, never except in the middle of the 
day, and where the thicket and the caverns afforded every 
facility for concealment. 

Whitsunday was coming, and Dr. Bales proposed to 
come over to the glen and celebrate the Holy Beast in the 
very early morning before any one was astir. There were 
a few of his Bristol flock who would be thankful for the 


UNDER THE STORM. 


119 


opportunity of meeting more safely than they could do in 
the city, since at Easter they had as nearly as possible been 
all arrested in a pavilion in Mr. Rivett^s garden which they 
had thought unsuspected. 

There would be one market-day first, and on that Stead 
would come and explain his preparations, and hear what 
the Doctor had arranged. And so it was. The time was 
to be three o’clock, the very dawn of the long summer 
day, the time when sleep is deepest. Dr. Eales and Mrs. 
Lightfoot would come out the night before, he not return- 
ing after his lesson to the Rivetts, and she making some 
excuse about going to see friends for the Sunday. 

The Rivetts, living outside the gates where sentries still 
kept guard, could start in the morning, and so could the four 
others who were to form part of the congregation. Gdbdy 
Grace was the only person near home whom Patience 
wished to invite, for she too had grieved over the great 
deprivation, and had too much heart for the Church to be 
satisfied with Mr. Woodley’s ministrations. Perhaps even 
she did not understand the difference, but she could be 
trusted, and the young people knew how happy it would 
make her. 

Little can we guess what such an opportunity was to the 
faithful children of the Church in those sad days. Goody 
Grace folded her hands and murmured, “ Lord, now lettest 
Thou Thy servant depart in peace,” when Patience told 
her of the invitation, and Patience, though she had all her 
ordinary work to do, went quietly about it, as if she had 
some great thought of peace and awe upon her. 

“ Why, Patience, you seem as if you were making ready 
for some guest, the Prince of Wales at least!” said Emlyn, 
on Saturday night. 

Patience smiled a sweet little happy smile and in her 
heart she said “ And so I am, and for a greater far!” but 
she did say “ Yes, Emlyn, Doctor Eales is coming to sleep 


120 


UNDER THE STORM. 


here to-night, and he will pray with us in the early morn- 
ing."" 

It had been agreed that the Celebration should take place 
first, and then after a short pause, the Morning Service. 
Jerusha was eleven years old, and a very good girl, and 
since Confirmation was impossible, her brother and sister 
would have asked for her admission to the Holy Feast with- 
out it, but she could not be called up without the danger 
of awaking Emlyn; and Patience was so sure that it was 
not safe to trust that damsel with the full knowledge of the 
treasure that, though Steadfast always thought his sister 
hard on her, he was forced to give way. The children were 
to be admitted to Matins, for if any idea oozed out that this 
latter service had been held, no great danger was likely to 
come of it. Dr. Eales arrived in the evening, Steadfast 
meeting him to act as guide, and Patience set before him 
of her best. A fowl, which she had been forced to broil for 
want of other means of dressing it; bread baked in a tin 
with a fire of leaves and small sticks heaped over it; roasted 
eggs, excellent butter and milk. She apologized for not 
having dared to fetch any ale for fear of exciting suspicion, 
but the doctor set her quite at ease by his manifest enjoy- 
ment of her little feast, declaring that he had not made so 
good a meal since Bristol was taken. 

Then he catechised the children. Little Ben could say 
the Lord’s Prayer, the Belief, and some of the shorter 
Commandments, and the doctor patted his little round 
white cap, and gave him two Turkey figs as a reward. 

Jerusha, when she got over her desperate fright enough 
to speak above a whisper, was quite perfect from her name 
down to “ charity with all men;” but Emlyn stumbled hor- 
ribly over even the first answers, and utterly broke down in 
the Fourth Commandment; but she smiled up in the doc- 
tor’s face in her pretty way, and blushed as she said The 
chaplain at Blythedale had taught us so far, y^qur reverence,"" 

“ And have you learned no further?” 


UNDER THE STORM. 


131 


“ If you were here to teach me, sir, I would soon learn 
it,^^ said the little witch, but she did not come over him as 
she did with most people. 

“You have as good an instructor as I for your needs, in 
this discreet maiden, said Dr. Eales, and as something of 
a pout descended on the sparkling little face, “ when you 
know all the answers, perchance Steadfast here may bring 
you to my lodgings and I will hear you.^^ 

“I could learn them myself if I had the book,” said 
Emlyn. 

The fact being that the Catechism was taught by Pa- 
tience from memory in those winter evenings when all 
went to bed to save candle-light, but that when Steadfast 
retired to the cow-house, Emlyn either insisted on playing 
with the others or pretended to go to sleep; and twitted 
Patience with being a Puritan. However, the hopes of 
going into Bristol might be an incentive, though she in- 
dulged in a grumble to Rusha, and declared that she liked 
a jolly chaplain, and this old doctor was not a bit better 
than a mere Puritan. 

Rusha opened her big eyes. She never did understand 
Emlyn, and perhaps that young maiden took delight in 
shocking her. They were ordered off to bed much sooner 
than they approved on that fair summer night, when the 
half moon was high and the nightingales were singing all 
round — not that they cared for that, but there- was a sense 
about them that something mysterious was going on, and 
Emlyn was wild with curiosity and vexation at being kept 
out of it. 

She would have kept watch and crept out; but that Pa- 
tience came in, and lay down, so close to the door that it 
was impossible to get out without waking her, and besides 
if Emlyn did but stir, she asked what was the matter. 

“ They mean something!” said Emlyn to herself, “ and 
1^11 know what it is. They have no right to keep me out 
of the plot; I am not like stupid little Rusha! I have been 


tJKDER THil STORM. 


m 

in a siege, and four battles, besides skirmishes! 1^11 watch 
till they think I^m asleep, if I pull all the hulls out of my 
bed ! Then they will begin. 

But nothing moved that Emlyn could hear or see. She 
woke and slept, but was quite aware when Patience rose up 
after a brief doze, and found the first streaks of dawn in 
the sky, a cuckoo calling as if for very life in the nearest 
tree, and Steadfast quietly sweeping the dew from the grass 
in a little open space shut in by rocks, trees, and bushes, 
close to the bank of the brook. 

A chest which he kept in the cow-shed, and which bore 
traces of the fire in the old house, had been brought down 
to serve as an Altar, and it was laid over, for want of any- 
thing better, with one of poor Mrs. Kenton ^s best table- 
cloths, which Patience had always thought too good for use. 
The next thing was to meet the rest of the scanty congre- 
gation at the entrances of the wood , and guide them to the 
spot. This was safely done. Goody Grace knew the way, 
and had guided one of the old Elmwood maid-servants 
whom she had managed to shelter for the night. Mrs. 
Lightfoot was there with Mrs. Rivet t, her daughter, elder 
son, and a grave-looking man-servant, Mr. Henshaw, a 
Barbados merchant, with his wife, and a very worn bat- 
tered shabby personage, but unmistakably a gentleman of 
quality, and wounded in the wars, for he was so lame that 
the merchant had to help him over the rough paths. 

It was a wonderful Mhitsun-day morning that none of 
the little party could ever forget. The sunrise could not 
be seen in that deep, narrow place, but the sky was of a 
strange pale shining blue, and the tender young green of 
the trees overhead was touched with gold, the glades of the 
wood were intensely blue with hyacinths, and with all sorts 
of delicate greens twined above in the bushes over them. 
A wild cherry, all silver white, was behind their Altar, the 
green fioor was marbled with cuckoo flowers and butter- 
cups, and the clear little stream whose voice murmured by 


UNDER THE STORM. 


123 


was fringed with kingcups and forget-me-nots. The scents 
were of the most delicious dewy freshness; and as to the 
sounds! Larks sung high up in the sky, wood-pigeons 
cooed around, nightingales, thrushes, every bird of the 
wood seemed to be trying to make music and melody. 

And in the midst the gray-haired priest stood close to an 
ivy-covered rock, with the white covered Altar, and the 
bright golden vessels which he had carefully looked to in 
the night, and the little congregation knelt close round him 
on cloaks and mats, the women hooded, the old Cavalier’s 
long thin locks, the merchant's dark ones, and the close- 
cropped heads of the servant and of Steadfast bared to the 
morning breeze in its pure, dewy, soft freshness, fit emblem 
of the Comforter. No book was produced, all was re- 
peated from memory. They durst not raise their voices, 
but the birds were their choir, and as they murmured their 
Gloria in Excelsis, the sweet notes rang out in that uncon- 
scious praise. 

When the blessing of peace had been given there was a 
long hush, and no one rose till after the vessels had been 
replaced in their casket, and Stead was climbing up with it 
again to the hiding-place. Then there was a move to the 
front of the hut, where Rusha was just awakening, and 
Emlyn feigned to be still asleep. It was not yet four 
o’clock, but the sweet freshness was still around everything. 
Young Mistress Alice Rivett and her brother were enchanted 
to gather flowers, and ran after their hosts to see the cows 
milked, and the goats, pigs, and poultry fed, sights new to 
them; but the elder ladies shivered and were glad to warm 
themselves at the little fire Patience hastily lighted, after 
cleaning the hut as fast as she could, by rolling up the bed- 
ding, and fairly carrying Ben out to finish his night’s rest 
in the cow-house. 

The guests had brought their provisions, and insisted 
that their young hosts should eat with them, accepting only 
the warm milk that Patience brought in her pail, and they 


134 


UNDER THE STORM. 


drank from the horn cups of the family. Dr. Eales ob- 
served to the Cavalier that it was atrue^^rt/jc or love-feas^t 
like those of the ancient Church, and the gentleman^s mel- 
ancholy, weather-beaten face relaxed into a smile as he 
sighed and hoped that the same endurance as that of the 
Christians of old would be granted in this time of persecu- 
tion. r 

Emlyn was gratified at being a good deal noticed by the 
company as so unlike the others. She was not shy and 
frightened like Kusha, who hung her head and had not a 
word to say for herself, but chattered away to the young 
Rivetts, showing them the kid, the calves, and the lambs, 
taking Mistress Alice to the biggest cowslips and earliest 
wild roses, and herself making a sweet posy for each of the 
ladies. The old Cavalier himself. Colonel Harford, was 
even amused with the pretty little maid, who, he told Dr. 
Eales, resembled Mirth as Master John Milton had depicted 
her, ere he took: up with General Cromwell and his crew; 
and was a becoming figure for this early morn. 

On learning the child^s history, he turned out to know 
Sir Harry Blythedale, but not to have heard of him since 
they had parted at Newark, he to guard the king to Ox- 
ford, Sir Harry to join Lord Astley, and he much feared 
that the old knight had been killed at Strowe, in the fight 
between Astley and Brereton. This would account for 
nothing having been heard from him about Emlyn, but* 
Colonel Harford promised, if any opportunity should offer, 
to communicate with Lady Blythedale, whom he believed 
to be living at Worcester; and he patted Emlyn on the 
head, called her a little loyal veteran, accepted a tiny posy 
of forget-me-not from her, and after fumbling in his 
pocket, gave her a crown piece. Steadfast and Patience 
were afraid it was his last, and much wished she had con- 
trived not to take it, but she said she should keep it for a 
remembrance. 

After this rest, the beautiful Whitsuntide Matins were 


UNDER THE STORM. 


125 


said in the fair forest church, and before six o’clock this 
strange and blessed festival had ended, though not the peace 
and thankfulness in the hearts of the little flock. 

Indeed, instead of a sermon. Dr. Eales’s parting words 
were, “ And he went in the strength of that meat forty days 
and forty nights. ” 


CHAPTER XVL 

A FAIR OFFER. 

*‘We be content,” the keepers said, 

“We three and you no less. 

Then why should we of you be afraid. 

As we never did tran^ress.” 

BoUn Hood Ballad. 

Steadfast was busy weeding the little patch of barley 
that lay near the ruins of the old farm-house with little 
Ben basking round him. The great carefulness as to keep- 
ing the ground clear had been taught him by his father^ 
and was one reason why his fields, though so small, did 
not often bear a bad crop. He heard his name called over 
the hedge, and looking up saw the Squire, Mr. Elmwood, 
on horseback. 

He came up, respectfully taking off his hat and standing 
with it in his hand as was then the custom when thus 
spoken to. “What is this I hear, Kenton,” said the 
squire, “ that you have been having a prelatist service on 
your ground?” 

Steadfast was dismayed, but did not speak, till Mr. Elm- 
wood added, “ Is it truer” 

“ Yes, sir,” he answered, r^solutel}". 

“ Did you know it was against the law to use the Book 
of Common Prayer?” 

“ There was no book, sir. ” 

“ But you do not deny it was the same superstitious and 
Popish ceremony and festival abolished by law, ” 


UNDEE THE STOEM. 


126 

“ JSTo, sir/^ Stead allowed, though rather by gesture than 
word. 

“ Now, look you here, young Kenton, I ask no questions. 
I do not want to bring any one into trouble, and you are a 
hard-working, honest lad by what they tell me, who have 
a brother fighting in the good Cause and have suffered from 
the lawless malignants yourself. Was it not the Prince's 
troopers that wrought this ruin?" pointing toward the 
blackened gable, “ and shot down your father? Aye! The 
more shame you should hold with them! I wish you no 
harm, I say, nor the blinded folk who must have abused your 
simplicity: but I am a justice of the peace, and I will not 
have laws broken on my land. If this should happen again, 
I shall remember that you have no regular or lawful tenure 
of this holding, and put you forth from it. " 

He waited, but a threat always made silent resistance 
easy to Steadfast, and there was no answer. 

Mr. Elmwood, however, let that pass, for he was not a 
hard or a fanatical man, and he knew that to hold such a 
service was not such an easy matter that it was likely to be 
soon repeated. He looked round at the well-mended fences, 
the clean ground, and the tokens of intelligent industry 
around, and the clean homespun shirt sleeves that spoke of 
the notable manager at home. “ You are an industrious 
fellow, my good lad," he said; “how long have you had 
this farm to yourself?" 

“ Getting on for five years, your honor," said Steadfast. 

“ And is that your brother?" 

“ Yes, please your honor," picking Ben up in his arms 
to prevent the barley from being pulled up by way of help- 
ing him. 

“ How many of you are there?" 

“Eiveofus, sir, but my eldest brother is in Captain 
Venn's troop." 

“ So I heard; and what is this about a child besides?' 


UNDER THE STORH. 


137 


An orphan, sir, I found after the skirmish at the mill- 
stream, who was left with us till her friends can send after 
her. ” 

“ Well, well. You seem a worthy youth, said Mr. 
Elmwood, who was certainly struck and touched by the 
silent uncomplaining resolution of the mere stripling who 
had borne so heavy a burden. “ If you were heartily one 
of us, I should be glad to make you wood-ward, instead of 
old Tomkins, and build up yonder house for you, but I can 
not do it for one who is hankering after prelacy, and might 
use the place for I know not what plots and conspiracies of 
the malignants.’^ 

Again Steadfast took refuge in a little bow of acknowl- 
edgment, but kept his lips shut, till again the squire de- 
manded : What do you think of it? There^s a fair offer. 
What have you to say for yourself ?^^ 

He had collected himself, and answered: ‘‘ I thank you, 
sir. You are very good. If you made me wood-ward I 
would serve your honor faithfully, and have no plots nor 
the like there. But, your honor, I was bred up in the 
Church and I can not sell myself. 

‘‘ Why, you foolish, self-conceited boy, what do you 
know about it? Is not what is good enough for better men 
than you fit to please you?^^ 

To this Stead again made no answer, having said a great 
deal for him. 

“ Well,^' said Mr. Elmwood, angered at last, “ if I ever 
saw a dogged moon-calf, you are one! However, I let you 
go scot-free this time, in regard for your brother’s good 
service, and the long family on your hands, but mind, I 
shall put in an active wood-ward instead of old Tomkins, 
who has been past his work these ten years, and if ever I 
hear of seditious orprelatical doings in yonder gully again, 
off you go.” 

He rode off, leaving Steadfast with temper more deter- 
mined, but mind not more at ease. The appointment of a 


138 


UNDER THE STORM. 


wood- ward was bad news for the copse-wood and the game had 
been left to their fate for the last few years, and what were 
the rights of the landlord over them Stead did not know, 
so that there might be many causes of trouble, especially if 
the said wood-ward considered him a person to be specially 
watched. Indeed, the existence of such a person would 
make a renewal of what Mr. Elmwood called the prelatist 
assembly impossible, and with a good deal of sorrow he an- 
nounced the fact on the next market-day to Mrs. Light- 
foot. He could not see Dr. Eales, but when next he came 
in, she gave him a paper on which was simply marked: 
“ Ps. xxxvii, 7. He looked out the reference, and 
found: “ Hold thee still in the Lord and abide patiently 
upon Him.^^ Stead hoped that Patience and the rest 
would never know what an offer had been made to him, 
but Master Brown, who had recommended him, and who 
did not at all like the prospect of a strange wood- ward, 
came to expostulate with him for throwing away such a 
chance for a mere whim, telling Patience she was a sensi- 
ble wench and ought to persuade her brother to see what 
was for his own good and the good of all, holding up him- 
self as an example. 

“ I never missed my church and had the parson’s good 
word all along, and yet you see I am ready to put up with 
this good man without setting myself up to know more 
than my elders and betters! Eh! Hast not a word to say 
for thyself? Then I’ll tell the squire, who is a good and 
friendly gentleman to all the old servants, that you have 
thought better of it, and will thankfully take his kindness, 
and do your best.” 

“ I can not go against father,” said Steadfast. 

“ And what would he have done, good man, but obey 
them that have the rule, and let wiser folk think for thee. 
But all the young ones are pig-headed as mules nowadays, 
and must think for themselves, one running off to the Inde- 
pendents, and one to the Quakers and Shakers, and one to 


UKDER THE STORM. 


129 


the Fifth Monarchy men, and you. Steadfast Kenton, that 
I thought better things of, talking of the Church and 
offending the squire with thy prelatic doings, that have 
been forbidden by Act of Parliament. What say you to 
that, my lad? Come, out with it,^^ for Stead had more 
difficulty in answering Master Brown, who had been a 
great authority throughout his life than even the Squire 
himself. 

“ Parson said there was higher law than Parliament. 

‘‘ Eh! What, the King? He is a prisoner, bless him, 
but they will never let him go till they have bent him to 
their will, and what will you do then?^^ 

“ Not the King,^^ muttered Steadfast. 

‘‘Eh! what! If you have come to pretending to know 
the law of God better than your elders, you are like the 
rest of them, and I have done with ypu.^^ And away 
tramped the steward in great displeasure, while Patience 
put her apron over her head and cried bitterly. 

She supposed Stead might be right, but what would it 
not have been to have the old house built up, and all de- 
cent about them as it was in mother’s time, and fit places 
to sleep in, now that the wenches were growing bigger? 

“ But you know, Patty, we are saving for that.” 

“ Ay, and how long will it take? And now this pesti- 
lent wood- ward will be always finding fault — killing the 
fowls and ducks, and seizing the swine and sheep, and 
very like slaughtering the dogs and getting us turned out 
of house and home; for now you have offended the squire, 
he will believe anything against us."^’ 

“ Come, Patty, you know. I could not help it. This 
is sorest of all, you that have always stood by me and fa- 
ther’s wish. ” 

“ Yes, yes,” sobbed Patience. “ I wot you are right. 
Stead. I’ll hold to you, though I wish — I wish you would 
think like other folk. ” 


130 


UNDER THE STORM. 


Yet Patience knew in her secret soul that then he would 
not be her own Steadfast, and she persuaded him no more, 
though the discomforts and deficiencies of their present 
home tried her more and more as the family grew older. 
Stead had contrived a lean-to, with timbers from the old 
house, and wattled sides stuffed with moss, where he and 
little Ben slept in summer-time, and they had bought or 
made some furniture — a chair and table, some stools, bed- 
ding, and kitchen utensils, and she toiled to keep things 
clean, but still it was a mere hovel, with the door opening 
out into the glade. Foxes and polecats prowled, owls 
hooted, and the big dog outside was a needful defender, 
even in summer-time, and in winter the cold was piteous, 
the wet even worse, and they often lost some of ' their 
precious animals — chickens died of cold, and once three 
lambs had been carried away in a sudden freshet. Yet Pa- 
tience, when she saw Steadfast convinced, made up her 
mind to stand by him, and defended him when the 
younger girls murmured. 

Eusha was of a quiet, acquiescent, contented nature, 
and said little, as Emlyn declared, ‘‘ She knew nothing 
better;^^ but Emlyn was more and more weary of the gul- 
ly, and as nothing was heard of her friends, and she was 
completely one of the home, she struggled more with the 
dullness and loneliness. She undertook all errands to the 
village for the sake of such change as a chatter with the 
young folk there afforded her, or for the chance of seeing 
the squire’s lady or sons and daughters go by; and she was 
wild to go on market-days to Bristol. 

In spite of Puritan grayness, soldiers, sailors, gentlemen, 
ladies, and even fashions, such as they were, could be seen 
there, and news picked up, and Emlyn would fain have 
persuaded Steadfast that she should be the most perfect 
market-woman, if he would only let her ride in on the 
donkey between the panniers, in a broad hat, with chickens 
and ducks dangling round, eggs, butter and fruit, or nuts. 


UKDER THE STORM. 


131 


and even posies, according to the season, and sit on the 
steps of the market-place among the other market-women 
and girls. 

Steadfast would have been the last to declare that her 
laughing, dark eyes, and smiling lips, and arch counte- 
nance would not bring many a customer, but he knew well 
that his mother would never have sent his sister to be thus 
exposed, and he let her pout, or laughed away her refusal 
by telling her that he was bound not to let a butler^s daugh- 
ter demean herself to be stared at by all the common folk, 
who would cheapen their wares. 

And when she did coax him to take her to Bristol on any 
errand she could invent, to sell her yarns, or buy pins, or 
even a ribbon, he was inexorable in leaving her under Mrs. 
Lightfoot^s care, and she had to submit, even though it 
sometimes involved saying her catechism to Dr. Eales. Yet 
that always ended in the old man’s petting her. It was 
only from her chatter that the old clergyman ever knew of 
the proposal that Stead had rejected for conscience’s sake. 
It vexed the lad so much that he really could not bear to 
think of it, and it would come over him now and then, was 
it all for nothing? Would the Church ever lift up her 
head again? or would Mr. Woodley be always in possession 
at Elmwood Church, where every one seemed to be con- 
tent with him. The Kentons went thither. It was hardly 
safe to abstain, for a fine upon absence was still the. law of 
the land, though seldom enforced; and Dr. Eales, who con- 
sidered Presbyterianism by far the least unorthodox and 
most justifiable sect, had advised Stead not to allow him- 
self or the others altogether to lose the habit of public wor- 
ship, but to abstain from Communions which might be an 
act of separation ff'ftm the Church, and which could not be 
accepted by her children as genuine. Such was the advice 
of most of the divines of the English Church in this time 
of eclipse; and though Stead, and still less Patience, did not 
altogether follow the reasoning, they obeyed, while aware 


182 


TJimER THE STORM. 


that they incurred suspicion from the squire hy not com- 
ing to ‘‘ the table. 

The new wood- ward, Peter Pierce, was not one of the vil- 
lagers as usual, but had been a soldier in one of the regi- 
ments of the Earl of Essex, in which Mr. Elmwood^s eld- 
est son had served. 

Instead of succeeding to old Tomkins’s lodge in the 
great wood, he had a new one built for him, so as to com- 
mand the opening of Hermit’s Gully toward the village, 
and one of the Bristol roads. Could this be for the sake 
of watching over anything so insignificant as the Kentons? 

The copse on their side of the brook was their own, free 
to do what they chose with except cutting down the timber 
trees, but the further side was the landlord’s, as they had 
now to remember; and as, when the brook was at its low- 
est, their pigs and goats were by no means likely to recol- 
lect; though Steadfast was extremely anxious to give no 
occasion for the mistrust and ill-will with which Pierce re- 
garded him, as a squatter, trespasser, and poacher, almost 
as a matter of course, and likewise a prelatist and plotter. 
Once he did find a kid on the wrong side, standing on a 
rock, browsing a honeysuckle, and was about either to 
seize it or shoot it, as it went off in three bounds, when 
Emlyn darted out, and threw herself between. It was her 
darling kid, it should never trespass again, she would — 
she would thank him ever more — if he would spare it this 
once. 

And Emlyn as usual had touched the soft place in the 
heart of even a wood- ward. He told her not to cry, and 
contented himself with growling a tremendous warning to 
Steadfast and Patience. 

There were several breezes about Growler, who was only 
too apt to use his liberty in pursuing rabbits on the wrong 
side, and whom Peter more than once condemned; but 
Emlyn and Ben begged him off, and he was kept well 
chained up. At last, however, he won even the wood- 


UNDER THE STORM. 


133 


ward^s favor by the slaughter of a terrible wild-cat and her 
brood after all Peter^s dogs had returned with bleeding 
faces from the combat. 

. The wood-ward had another soft place in his heart. He 
had a pretty young wife and a little son. Nanny Pierce 
was older in years, but far more childish than Patience, 
and the life in this gully seemed to her utter solitude and 
desolation, and if Patience had been ten times a poacher 
and a prelatist, she could not have helped making friends 
with the only creature of her own kind within a mile. And 
when Patience^S experience with Ben and other older babes 
at rest in the church-yard had aided the poor little helpless 
woman through a convulsion fit of her baby’s before Goody 
Grace could arrive, Peter himself owned that ‘ ‘ the Kenton 
wench was good for somewhat,” though -he continued to 
think Steadfast’s great carefulness not to transgress, only a 
further proof that ‘‘ he was a deep one ” — all tlje more be- 
cause he refused to let any one but himself have a search 
for a vanished polecat in “ them holes,” which Peter was 
persuaded contained some mystery, though Steadfast laid 
it, and not untruly, on the health of the young stock he 
kept penned in the caves, which were all, he hoped, of 
which Peter was aware. 

All this was harassing, but a greater trouble came in the 
second winter. Good Dr. Bales was failing, and the tid- 
ings of the King’s execution were a blow that he never re- 
covered. Mrs. Lightfoot had tears in her eyes when Stead 
asked after him, week by week, and she could only say that 
he was feebler, and spent all his days in prayer—often with 
tears. 

At last came peace. He lay still and calm, and sent a 
message that young Kenton should be brought to him for 
a last farewell. 

And as Stead stood sorrowful and awed by his bedside, 
he bade the youth never despair or fall away from his hope 
of the restoration of the Church. 


134 


rXDER THE STORM. 


‘‘ Eemember/^ he said, “ she is founded on a rock, and 
the gates of hell shall never prevail against her. She shall 
stand forth for evermore as the moon, which wanes but to 
wax again; and I have good hope that thou wilt see it, my 
son. He that shall endure unto the end, the same shall 
be saved.” 

Then Dr. Eales pointed to a small parcel of books, 
which he had caused Mrs. Lightfoot to put together, tell- 
ing Steadfast that he had selected them alike for devotion 
and for edification, and that if he studied them, he would 
have no doubt when he might deliver up his trust to a true 
priest of the Church. 

“ And if none should return in my time?” asked Stead- 
fast. 

‘‘ Have I not told thee never to despair of God^s care for 
His Church? Yet His time is not as our time, and it may 
be — that young as thou art — the days of renewal may not 
be when thou shalt see them. Should it thus be, my son, 
leave the secret with one whom thou canst securely trust. 
Better the sacred vessels should lie hidden than that thou 
shouldst show thy faith wanting by surrendering them to 
any, save according to the terms of thy vow. See, Stead- 
fast, among these books is a lighter one, a romance of 
King Arthur, that I loved well in my boyhood, and which 
may not only serve thee as fair pastime in the winter 
nights, but will mind thee of thine high and holy charge, 
for it goeth deeper than the mere outside.” 

His voice was growing weak. Mrs. Lightfoot gave him a 
cordial, and Stead knelt by his bedside, felt his hand on 
his head, and heard his blessing for the last time. The 
next market-day, when he called at the good bakeste^s 
stall, she told him in floods of tears that the guest who had 
brought a blessing on her house, wrs gone to his rest, 


tJKDER THE STORM. 


135 


CHAPTER XVn. 

THE GROOM IN GRAY. 

Heroes and kings, in exile forced to roam, 

Leave swelling phrase and seven-leagued words at home. 

Scott. 

Another summer and winter had gone by, and harvest- 
time had come again, when Steadfast with little Ben, now 
seven years old, for company, took two sacks of corn to be 
ground at the mill, where the skirmish had been fought in 
which Emlyn^s father had been killed. 

The sacks were laid across a pack-saddle on a stout white 
horse, with which by diligent saving. Steadfast had con- 
trived to replace Whitefoot. Ben was promised a ride home 
when the sacks should have been emptied, and trotted 
along in company with Growler by his brother’s side, talk- 
ing more in an hour than Stead did in a week, and looking 
with great interest to be shown the hawthorn bush where 
Emlyn had been found. For Stead and Ben were alike in 
feeling the bright, merry, capricious, laughing, teasing 
Emlyn the charm and delight of home. In trouble, or for 
real aid, they went to Patience, but who was like Emlyn 
for drollery and diversion? Who ever made Stead laugh 
as she could, or who so played with Ben, and never, like 
Rusha, tried to be maidenly, discreet, nay, dull? 

It was very inconvenient that just as they reached the 
famous thorn bush, the white horse began to demonstrate 
that his shoe was loose. They were very near the mill, and 
after disposing of the sacks, the brothers led the horse on 
to a forge, about a furlong beyond. It was not a place of 
which Stead was fond, as the smith was known to be strong 
for the Covenant, and he could not help wishing that the 
shoe had come ofl nearer to his good friend Smith Blane. 


136 


UNDER THE STORM. 


Original-Sin Hopkins, which was the name of the black- 
smith, was in great excitement, as he talked of the crown- 
ing mercy vouchsafed at Worcester, and how the son of the 
late man, Charles Stewart, had been utterly defeated, and 
his people scattered like sheep without a shepherd. Three 
or four neighbors were standing about, listening to the 
tidings he had heard from a messenger on the way to Bris- 
tol. One was leaning on the unglazed window frame, and 
a couple of men basking, even in that September day, in 
the glow of the fire, while a few women and children 
loitered around, thinking it rather fine to hear Master 
Original-Sin declaim on the backsliding of the Scots in up- 
holding the son of the oppressor. 

The shoeing of Stead Kenton^s horse seemed a trivial 
matter beneath the attention of such an orator; but he 
vouchsafed to bid his lad drive in a few nails; and just as 
the task was commenced, there came to the forge a lady 
in a camlet riding-dress and black silk hood, walking be- 
side a stout horse, which a groom was leading with great 
care, for it had evidently lost a shoe. And it had a saddle 
with a pillion on which they had been riding double, after 
the usual fashion of traveling for young and healthy gen- 
tlewomen in those days of bad roads. 

The lady, a quiet, self-possessed person, not in her first 
youth, came forward, and in the first pause in the black- 
smith's declamation, begged that he would attend to her 
horse. 

He gave a nod as if intending her to wait till Steadfast^s 
work was done, and went on. “ And has it not been 
already brought about 'that the man of blood hath — 

“ So please you,^' interrupted the lady, ‘‘ to shoe my 
horse at once. I am on my way to Abbotsleigh, and my 
cousin, Mr. Norton, knows that my business brooks no de- 
lay. 

Mr. Norton, though a Royalist, was still the chief per- 
sonage in that neighborhood, and his name produced suffi- 


UNDER THE STORM. 


137 


cient effect on Original-Sin to make him come forward, 
look at the hoof, and select a shoe from those hung on the 
walls of his forge. Little Ben looked on, highly delighted 
to watch the proceedings, and Steadfast, as he waited, 
glanced toward the servant, a well-made young man, in a 
trim, sober suit of gray cloth, with a hat a good deal 
slouched over a dark swarthy face, that struck Stead as 
having been seen by him before. 

After all, the lady^s horse was the first finished. Hop- 
kins looked at all the other three shoes, tapped them with 
his hammer, and found them secure, received the money 
from the lady, but gave very slight salutations as the pair 
remounted, and rode away. 

Then he twisted up his features and observed, 

“ Here is a dispensation! As 1 am a living soul, this 
horse-shoe was made at Worcester. I know the make. 
My cousin was apprenticed there. 

“ Well, outlandish work goes against one^s stomach,^'’ 
said one of the by-standers, “ but what of that, man?” 

“ Seest thou not, Jabez Holt? Is not the young man 
there one of them who trouble Israel, and the lady is striv- 
ing for his escape. Mr. Horton is well known as a 
malignant heart, and his man Pope hath been to and fro 
these last days as though evil were being concerted. I 
would that good Master Hatcham were here.^' 

‘‘ Poor lad. Let him" alone. "Tis hard he should not 
get off,^^ said one of the by-standers. 

“ I tell thee he is one of the brood of Satan, who have 
endeavored to break up the godly peace of the saints, and 
fill this goodly land with blood and fire. Is it not said, 
‘ Boot them out that they be no more a people "?” 

“ Have after them, then,"" said another of the company. 
“We want no more wars, to be taking our cows and kill- 
ing our pigs. After them, I say!"" 

“ You haven"t got no warrant, "Kiginal,"" said a more 
cautious old man. * ^ Best be on the safe side. Gio after 


138 


UNDER THE STORM. 


constable first, and raise the hue and cry. Youfil easy 
overtake them. Breakneck Hill be sore for horsefiesh.^^ 

‘‘ IM fain see Master Hatcham/^ said the smith, scratch- 
ing his head. 

Stead had meantime been listening as he paid his pence. 
It fiashed over him now where he had beheld those intense- 
ly dark eyes, and the very peculiar cut of features, though 
they had then been much more boyish. It was when he 
had seen the Prince of Wales going to the Cathedral on 
Christmas-day, in the midst of all his plumed generals, 
with their gay scarves, and rich lace collars. 

He had put little Ben on horseback, and turned away 
into the long, dirty lane, or rather ditch, that led home- 
ward, before, through his consternation, there dawned on 
him what to do. A gap in the hedge lay near, through 
which he dragged the horse into a pasture field, to the 
great amazement of Ben, saying, ‘‘ See here, Ben, those 
folk want to take yonder groom in gray. We will go and 
warn them.^^ 

Ben heartily assented. 

“ I like the groom,^^ he said. “ He jumped me five 
times off the horse-block, and he patted Growler and called 
him a fine fellow, who didn^t deserve his name — worth his 
salt he was sure. We won^t give Growler salt. Stead, but 
don’t let that ugly preaching man get the good groom 

Steadfast was by this time on the horse behind his little 
brother, pressing through the fields, which by ancient cus- 
tom were all thrown open from harvest-time till Christ- 
mas; and coming out into the open bit of common that 
the travelers had to pass before arriving at Breakneck Hill, 
he was just in time to meet them as they trotted on. He 
hardly knew what he said, as he doffed his hat, and ex- 
claimed — 

“ Madame, you are pursued.^' 

Pursued!^’ Both at once looked back. 

“There^s time," ^ said Steadfast; “but Smith Hopkins 


UNDER THE STORM. 


139 


said one of the shoes was Worcester make, and he is gone 
to fetch the constable ajid raise the hue and cry.^^ 

“ And you are a loyal — I mean an honest lad — come to 
warn us,^^ said the groom. 

‘‘ Yes, sir. I think, if you will trust me, they can be 
put off the track. 

“ Trusty! Your face answers for you. Eh, fair Mis- 
tress Jane?^^ 

Sir, it must be as you will.^^ 

“This way then, sir,^^ said Steadfast, who was off his 
own horse by this time, and leading it into a rough track, 
through a thicket whence some timber had been drawn out 
in the summer. 

“ They will see where we turned off,^^ whispered the 
lady. 

“No, ma’am, not unless you get off the hard ground. 
Besides they will go on the way to Breakneck Hill. Hark! 
I hear a hallooing. Not near — no — no fear, madame.” 

They were by this time actually hidden from the com- 
mon by the copsewood, and the distant shouts of the hue 
and cry kept all silent till they were fairly out beyond it, 
not far from Stead’s own fields. 

Happily they had hitherto met no one, but there was 
danger now of encountering gleaners, and indeed Stead’s 
white horse could be seen from a distance, and might at- 
tract attention to his companions. 

“ Halloo!” exclaimed the groom, as they halted under 
shelter of a pollard willow. “ I’ve heard tell that a white 
horse is the surest mark for a bullet in a battle, and if that 
be Breakneck Hill, as you call it, your beast may bring the 
sapient smith down on us. Had we not best part?” 

“Ay,” said Steadfast. “I was thinking what was 
best. Whither were you going?” 

He blurted it out, not knowing tO whom to address him- 
self, or how to frame his speech. The lady hesitated, but 
her companion named Castle Carey. 


140 


tJNDER THE STORM. 


Then, please your honor/^ said Stead, impartially ad- 
dressing both, methinks the best course would be, if 
this — 

“ Groom William,'^ suggested that personage. 

“ Would go down into yonder covert with my little 
brother here, where my poor place is, and where my sister 
can show a safe hiding-place, in case Master HopkiRs sus- 
pects me, and follows; but I scarce think he will. Then 
meanwhile, if the lady will trust herself to me — 

“ Oh! there is no danger for me,'’ she said. 

‘‘ Go on, my Somerset Solomon," said the groom. 

“ Then would I take the lady on for a short space to a 
good woman in Elmwood there. And on the way this 
horse shall lose his Worcester shoe, and I will get Smith 
Blane, who is an honest fellow, to put on another; and 
when the chase is like to be over I will come back for him 
and put you on the cross lane for Castle Carey, which 
don't join with the road you came by till just ere you get 
into the town." 

“ There's wit as well as cheese in Somerset. What say 
you, my guardian angel?" said Groom William. 

‘‘It sounds well," she reluctantly answered. “Does 
Mr. Norton know you, young man?" 

“No, madame," said Stead, with much stumbling. 

“ But I have seen him in Bristol. My Lady Elmwood 
knew of me, and Sir George Elmwood too, and the Dean 
could say I was honest." 

“ Which the face of you says better than your tongue," 
said the groom. “ Have with you then, my bold little 
elf," he added, taking the bridle of the horse on which 
Ben was still seated. “ Or one moment more. You 
knew me, my lad — are there any others like to do so?" 

“ I had seen you,' sir, at Bristol, and that is why I would 
not have you show yourself in Elmwood. But my sister 
has never seen you, and the* only neighbors who ever come 
in are the wood- ward and his wife. He served in my Lord 


UNDER THE STORM. 


141 


of Essex^s army, but he has never seen you. Moreover, he 
was to be at the squire’s to-day helping to stack his corn. 
Ben, do you tell Patience that he ” — again taking refuge 
in a pronoun — “ is a gentleman in danger, and she must 
see to his safety for an hour or two till I come back for 
him.” 

“A gentleman in danger,” repeated Ben, anxious to 
learn his lesson. 

“ He and I will take care of that,” said the gray-coated 
groom, gayly, as he turned the horse’s head, and waved his 
hat in courtly fashion to the lady so that Steadfast saw 
that his hair was cropped into black stubble. 

“Ah!” said the lady, with a sigh, for the loss of a 
Cavalier’s locks was a dreadful thing. “ You know him 
then.” 

“ I have seen him at Bristol,” said Steadfast, with con- 
siderably less embarrassment, though still in the clownish 
way he could not shake off. 

“ And you know how great is the trust you — nay, we 
have undertaken. But, as he says, he has learned the true 
fidelity of a leathern jerkin. ” 

Then Jane Lane told Steadfast of the King’s flight from 
Worcester, and adventures at Boscobel with the Penderells, 
and how she had brought him to Abbotsleigh, in hopes of 
finding a ship at Bristol, but that failing, it was too peril- 
ous for him to remain there, so that she was helping him 
as far as Castle Carey on his way to Trent. 

Before they were clear of the wood. Stead asked her to 
pause. He knocked off the tell-tale shoe with the help of 
a stone, threw it away into the middle of a bramble, and 
then after a little consultation, she decided on herself en- 
countering the sniith, not perhaps having much confidence 
in the readiness of speech or invention of her companion. 

When they arrived at the forge, where good-humored, 
brawny Harry Blane was no small contrast to his gaunt 


142 


UNDEB THE STOBM. 


compeer Original-Sin Hopkins, she averred that she was 
traveling from her relations, and having been obliged to 
send her servant back for a packet that had been forgotten, 
this good youth, who had come to her help when her horse 
had cast a shoe, had undertaken to guide her to the 
smithes, and to take her again to meet her man, if he did 
not come for her himself. Might she be allowed in the 
meantime to sit with Master Blane^s good housewife? 

Master Blane was only too happy, and Mistress Jane 
Lane was accordingly introduced to the pleasant kitchen, 
with sanded floor, and big oak table, open hearth, and 
beaupots in the oriel window where the spinning-wheel 
stood, and where the neat and hospitable Dame Blane 
made her kindly welcome. 

Steadfast, marveling at her facility of speech, and glad 
the king^s safety did not depend on his uttering such a 
story, told Blane that he must go after his cattle and 
should look after the groom on the way. 

As he walked through the wood, and drew near the 
glade, he was dismayed to hear voices, and to see Peter 
Pierce leaning against the wall of the house; but Kusha 
came running up to him exclaiming, ‘‘Oh! Stead, here is 
this good stranger that you met, telling us all about 
brother Jeph.^^ 

“ Yes, my kind host,^^ said the gray-coated guest, with 
a slight nasal intonation, rising as Stead came near, “ I 
find that you are the very lad my friend and brother Jeph- 
thah Kenton, that singular Christian man, bade me search 
out. ‘ If you go near Bristol, beloved,^ quoth he, ‘ search 
me out my brothers Steadfast and Benoni, and my sisters 
Patience and Jerusha, and greet them well for me, and 
bear witness of me to them. They dwell,^ said he, ‘ in a 
lonely hut in the wood-side, and with them a fair little 
maiden, sprung of the evil and idolatrous seed of the 
malignants, but whom their pious nurture may yet bring to 
a knowledge of the truth,^ and by that token, I knew that 


UNDER THE STORM. 143 

it was the same. There was an odd little twinkle toward 
Emlyn just then. 

“ And Stead, Jeph is an officer, said Patience, who 
was busied in setting before the visitor on a little round 
table, the* best ale, bread, cheese, and butter that her hut 
afforded, together with an onion, which, he declared, was 
‘‘ what his good grandfather, a valiant man for the godly, 
had ever loved best. 

‘^An officer! Ay is he! A captain of his Ironside 
troop, very like to be Colonel ere long.^^ 

Stead was absolutely bewildered and could not find 
speech, beyond an awkward “ Where 

“ Where was he when I last saw him? Charging down 
the main street of Worcester, where the malignants and 
Charles Stewart made their last stand. Smiting them hip 
and thigh with the sword of Gedaliah, nay, my tongue 
tripped, Twas Gideon I would say.^^ 

“ Aj” said the wood- ward, “ Squire had the tidings two 
days back in a news letter. It was a mighty victory of 
General Cromwell. 

In sooth it was,^^ returned the groom; “ and I hear 
he hath ordered a solemn thanksgiving therefore.^' 

“But Jephthah,^^ put in Patience, “you are sure he 
was not hurtr’^ 

“ The hand of Heaven protecteth the godly,' ^ again 
through his nose spoke the guest. “ He was well when I 
left him ; being sent south by my master to attend my mis- 
tress, and so being no more among them that divide the 
spoil." 

“ Where have you served, sir?" demanded the wood- 
ward. 

“I am last • from Scotland," was the answer. “ A 
godly land." 

“Ah! I know naught of Scotland,'^ said the wood- 
ward. “ I was disbanded when my Lord Essex gave up 
the command, more's the pity, for he was for doing things 


144 


UNDER THE STORM. 


soberly and reasonably, and ever in the name of the poor 
King that is gone! You look too young to have seen fire 
at Edgehill or Exeter, sir.^^ 

Did I not?^^ said the youth. “ Ay, I was with my 
father, though only as a boy apart on a hill.^^ * 

The reminiscences that were exchanged astonished 
Steadfast beyond measure, and really made him doubt 
whether what had previously passed had not been all a 
dream. The language was so like Jephthah^s own too, all 
except that one word “fair^^ applied to Emlyn; and Pa- 
tience, Kusha, and the Pierces were entirely without a sus- 
picion, that their guest was other than he seemed. How 
much must have been picked out of little Ben, without the 
child ^s knowing it, to make such acting possible? 

And how was the wood- ward, who was so much delighted 
with the visitor, to be shaken off? Stead stood silent, puz- 
zled, anxious, and wondering what to do next, a very heavy 
and awkward host, so that even Patience wondered what 
made him so shy. 

Suddenly, however, a whistle, and the sharp yap of a 
dog was heard across the stream. Nanny Pierce exclaimed, 
“ There are those rascal lads after the rabbits again and 
the gamekeeper’s instinct awoke. Pierce shook hands 
with his fellow soldier, regretted he could not see more of 
him, and received his promise that if he came that way 
again, he would share a pottle of ale at the lodge; and then 
tramped off after his poachers over the stream. 

Groom William then kissed the young women (the usual 
mode of salutation then), Nanny Pierce and all, thanked 
Patience, and looked about for the goodly little malignant, 
as he called Emlyn, but she was nowhere to be seen, and 
Stead hurried him off through the wood. 

“ Ho! ho! sly rascal,” said Charles, as they turned 
away. “ You’re jealous! You would keep the game to 
yourself.” 

Stead had no answer to make to this banter, the very 


UNDER THE STORM. 


145 


notion of Emlynas aught but the orphan in his charge was 
new to him. 

They were not yet beyond the gully when from between 
the hazel stems, out sprung Emlyn, and kneeling on the 
ground caught the King’s hand and kissed it. 

“ Eairy-haunted wood!” cried Charles, and indeed it 
was done with great natural grace, and the little figure 
with the glowing cheeks, her hood flying back so as to 
show her brilliant eyes sparkling with delight and enthu- 
siasm, was a truly charming vision. “ It is like one of the 
masks of the merry days of old.” And as he retained her 
hand and returned the salute on her lips^ Queen Mab 
herself, for who else saw through thy poor brother sov- 
ereign’s mean disguise?” 

“ I had seen your Majesty with the army,” replied 
Emlyn, modestly blushing a good deal. 

“ Ah! The Fates have provided me with a countenance 
the very worst for traits like mine. But that matters the 
less since it is only my worthy subjects who see through the 
gray coat. I would lay my crown, if I had it, to one of 
those crispy ringlets of yours, that Queen Mab was the 
poacher who drew off the crop-eared keeper. ” 

’Tis Eobin Goodfellow, please your Majesty, who leads 
clowns astray, ” said Emlyn in the same tone. 

Sometimes a horse I’ll be, sometimes a hound,” quot- 
ed the King. 

Stead could only listen in amazement without ar word to 
say for himself. Near the confines of the wood, he had to 
leave Emlyn to guide the King over a field-path while he 
fetched Mrs. Jane Lane and the horse to meet them be- 
yond, as it was wiser for the King not to show himself in 
the village. Again Charles jested on his supposed jealousy 
of leaving the fair Queen Mab alone in such company, and 
on his blunt answer, “ I only feared the saucy child might 
be troublesome, sir.” 


146 


UNDER THE STORM. 


At which the King laughed the more, and even Emlyn 
smiled a little. 

All was safely accomplished, and when Steadfast had 
brought Mrs. Lane to the deep lane, they found the King 
and Emlyn standing by the stile, and could hear the laugh- 
ter of both as they approached. 

‘‘He can always thus while away his cares,” said Jane 
Lane in quite a motherly tone. “ And well it is that he is 
of so joyous a nature. 

Perhaps it was said as a kind of excuse for the levity of 
one in so much danger chattering to the little woodland 
maid so mirthfully, and like one on an equality. When 
they appeared, Charles bestowed a kiss on Emlyn^s lips, 
and shook hands cordially with Steadfast, lamenting that 
he had no reward, nor even a token to leave with them. 

Stead made his rustic bow, pinched his hat, and mut- 
tered, “ It is enough to — 

“ Enough reward to have served your Majesty, said 
Emlyn, “ he would say.^^ 

“ Yes, and it is your business to find words for him, 
pretty one,” said the King. “A wholesome partnership 
—eh? He finds worth, and you find wit! And so we 
leave the fairy buried in the woodland.” 

And on the wanderers rode, while Steadfast and Emlyn 
turned back over the path through the fields; and she 
eagerly told that the King had slept at Blythedale on his 
way to Worcester, and that though Sir Harry was dead, 
his son was living in Holland. “ And if the King gets 
there safely, he will tell Master George, and if my uncle is 
with him, no doubt he will send for me, or mayhap, come 
and fetch mo.” 

There was a shock of pain in SteadfasPs heart. 

“ You would be glad?” 

“ Poor old Stead. I would scarce be glad to quit you, 

I doubt me if the Hague, as they call it, would show mo 
any one I should care for as much as for your round 


UNDER THE STORM. 


147 


shoulders, you good old lubber! But you should come too, 
and the King would give you high preferment, when he 
comes to his own again, and then we won^t be buried alive 
in this Hermit’s Gully. ” 

She danced about in exultation, hardly knowing what 
wild nonsense she talked, and Stead was obliged to check 
her sharply in an attempt to sing 

“ The king shall enjoy his own again.” 

“ But Stead,” asked Ben, after long reflection, how 
could Groom William know all about brother Jeph?” 

A question Stead would not hear, not wishing to destroy 
confidence in His Majesty’s veracity. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 
jeph’s good fortune. 

Still sun and rain made emerald green the loveliest fields on earth, 

And gave the type of deathless hope, the little shamrock, birth. 

Irish Ballad. 

The King’s visit left traces. Emlyn had become far 
more restless and consciously impatient of the dullness and 
seclusion of the Hermit’s Gully. Not only did she, as be- 
fore, avail herself of every pretext for going into the vil- 
lage, or for making expeditions to Bristol, but she openly 
declared the place a mere grave, intolerable to live in, and 
she confided to Jerusha that the King had declared that it 
was a shame to hide her there — such charms were meant 
for the world. 

The only way of getting into the world that occurred to 
her was going into service at Bristol, and she talked of this 
whenever she specially hated her spinning, or if Patience 
ventured to complain of her gadding about, gossiping with 
Nanny Pierce or Kitty Blane, or getting all the young lads 
in Elmwood round her, to be amused and teased by her 
lively rattle. 


148 


UNDER THE STORM. 


Patience began to be decidedly of opinion that it would 
be much better for all parties that the girl should be under 
a good mistress. Both she and Kusha were over sixteen 
years old; and though it was much improved, the house 
was hardly fit for so many inhabitants, and both Goody 
Grace and Dame Blane had told Patience that it would be 
better, both for the awkward Kusha and the gay Emlyn, if 
they could have some household training. 

Mistress Elmwood, at the Hall, had noted the family at 
church, and observed their perfect cleanliness and orderfi- 
ness, and it was inti9iated that at the Lady-day hiring, she 
would take Kusha among her maidens. 

Shy Kusha cried a great deal, and wished Emlyn would 
go instead, but Mrs. Elmwood would not have hired that 
flighty damsel on any account, and Emlyn was sure it 
would be but mopish work to live under a starched old 
Puritan. Mrs. Lightfoot was therefore applied to, to find 
a service for Emlyn Gay thorn, and she presently discovered 
one Mistress Sloggett, a haberdasher^s wife of wealth and 
consideration, who wanted a young maid-servant. 

Emlyn was presented to her by the bakester, undertook 
for everything, and was hired by the twelvemonth, going 
off in high glee at the variety and diversion she expected 
to enjoy at the sign of the Sheep and Shears, though cling- 
ing with much tenderness to her friends as they parted. 

“ Kemember, Emlyn, this is the home where you will 
always be welcome,'^ said Stead. 

“ As if I wanted to remember it” said Emlyn, with her 
sweet smile. “ As if I did not know where be kind hearts. 

The hovel seemed greatly deserted when the two young 
girls were gone. Patience sorely missed Kusha, her dili- 
gent little helper, and latterly her companion too; and the 
lack of Emlyn^s merry tongue made all around seem silent 
and tedious. Steadfast especially missed the girl. Per- 
haps it was due to the King^s gibes that her absence fully 
opened to him the fact that he knew not how to do without 


UNDER THE STORM. 


149 


her. After his usual fashion, he kept the discovery to 
himself, not even talking to Patience about it, being very 
shamefaced at the mere thought, which gave a delicious 
warmth to his heart, though it made him revolve schemes 
of saving up till he had a sufficient sum with which to go 
to the squire and propose to meet him half-way in rebuild- 
ing the old house; not such an expensive matter as it would 
be in these days. There, in full view of all that passed 
down Elmwood Lane, Emlyn could not complain of soli- 
tude, he thought! But there was this difficulty in the way, 
that Jephthah had never resigned his claims as eldest son, 
and might come home at any time, and take possession of 
all the little farm at which Steadfast had worked for seven 
years. 

The war was over, and nothing had been heard of Jeph, 
except the king^s apocryphal history, since his visit after 
the taking of Bristol. Patience had begun to call him 

poor Jeph,^^ and thought he must have been killed, but 
Stead had ascertained that the army had not been dis- 
banded, and believed him still to be employed. 

At length, one market-day, Mrs. Lightfoot told him. 

There has been one asking for you, Kenton, Seth Cole- 
man, the loriner’s son, that went soldiering when your 
brother did. He landed last week from Ireland with a 
wooden leg, and said he, ‘ Where shall I come to the speech 
of one Steadfast Kenton? I have a greeting from his 
brother, the peculiarly favored,^ or some such word, ‘ Jeph- 
thah Kenton, who told me I should hear tidings of him 
from Mrs. Bakester Lightfoot, at the sign of the “ Wheat- 
sheaf. ^ I told him where you abode, and he said he knew 
as much from your brother, but he could not be tramping 
out to Elmwood on a wooden leg. So says I, ‘ I will send 
Steadfast Kenton to you next market-day." You will find 
him at the sign of the ‘ Golden Bridle," by the Wharf Stairs."" 

Stead had no sooner disposed of his wares than he went 
in search of the loriner"s shop, really one for horse furni- 


150 


UNDER THE STORM. 


ture. There was a bench outside, looking out on the wharf 
and shipping, and on it was seated the returned soldier, 
with a little party round him, to whom he was expounding 
what sounded more military than religious: 

“ And so, the fort having been summoned and quarter 
promised, if so be no resistance were made, always except- 
ing Popish priests, and — Eh! What now? Be you an 
old neighbor? I donH remember your face.^^ 

“ I have seen you, though. I am Jephthah Kenton^s 
brother, that you asked for. 

‘‘ I mind you were but a stripling in those days, and yet 
in gross darkness. Yea, I have a letter for thee from my 
comrade, who is come to high preferment. 

“ Jephr^ 

“ Yea, things have p»ospered with him. He was a 
sergeant even before we sailed for Ireland, and there he did 
such good service in hunting out Popish priests and rebels 
in their lurking-places in the bogs and mountains, that the 
Lord General hath granted him the land that he took with 
his sword and his bow, even a meadow land fat and fertile, 
Ballyshea by name, full of the bulls of Bashan, goodly to 
look at. Aud to make all sure, he hath taken to wife the 
daughter of the former owner of the land, a damsel fair to 
look upon.^^ 

“ Jeph! But sure — the Irish are Papists.’^ 

“ Not the whole of them. There are those that hold to 
Prelacy and call themselves King^s men, following the 
bloody and blinded Duke of Ormond. Of them was this 
maid^s father, whom we slew at the taking of Clonmel, 
where I got this wound and left my good right leg. So is 
the race not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but 
time and chance happeneth to all. When I could hobble 
about once more on crutches, I found that the call had 
come to divide and possess the gate of the enemy, and that 
the meads of Ballyshea had fallen to Sergeant Kenton. 
Moreover, in the castle hard by, dwelt the widow and her 


UNDER THE STORM. 


151 


daughter, who cried to General Lambert for their land, and 
what doth he say to Jephthah, but ‘ Make it sure, Kenton. 
Take the maid to wife, and so none will disturb you in the 
fair heritage.^ Yea, and mine old comrade would have me 
sojourn with him till I was quite restored, so far as a man 
with one limb short may be. I tell you ^tis a castle, man.^^ 
‘‘ Our Jeph lord of a castle?^^ 

“ Ay, even so. Twice as big as Elmwood Hall, if half 
were not in ruins, and the other half the rats run over like 
peas out of a bag. While as to the servants, there are 
dozens of them, mostly barefoot and in rags, who will run 
at the least beck from the old mistress or the young mis- 
tress, though they scowl at the master. But he is taking 
order with them, and teaching them who is to be obeyed.^' 
“ Then our Jephthah is a great man?^^ 

“You may say that — a bigger man than the squire at 
Elmwood, or at Leigh, I can tell you. Only I would give 
all that bare mountain and bog, full of wild. Popish, red- 
haired kernes for twenty yards in a tidy street at Bristol, 
with decent godly folk around me. Murdering or being 
murdered, I have marveled more than once whether the 
men of Israel were as sick of it in Canaan as I was at 
Drogheda, but the cry ever was, ' Be not slack in the work.^ 
But I will bring you Jephthah^s letter. He could not 
write when he went off, but he could not be a sergeant 
without, so we taught him — I and Corporal Eaith-Wins.'’^ 
Jephthah ^s handwriting was of a bold description, doing 
honor to his tutors, but the letter was very brief, though to 
the purpose — 

“ Dear Brothers and Sisters,— -This is to do you, 
to wit, that by the grace of Heaven on my poor endeavors 
I am come to high preferment. A goodly spoil hath fallen 
unto me, namely, the castle and lands of Ballyshea, and 
therewith the daughter of the owner, deceased, by name 
Ellen Koche, whom I have espoused in marriage, and am 


153 


UNDER THE STORM. 


bringing to the light of truth. I have castle, lands, flocks 
and herds, men-servants and maid-servants in abundance, 
and I give thanks to Him who hath rewarded His servant. 

“ Therefore I wholly resign to you, my brethren. Stead- 
fast and Benoni, any rights of heirship that may be mine 
in respect of the farmstead of Elmwood, and will never, 
neither I nor my heirs, trouble you about it further. Yet 
if Ben, or my sisters Patience and Jerusha, be willing to 
cross over to me in this land of promise they shall be kindly 
welcome, and I shall find how to bestow them well in mar- 
riage. Mine old comrade, Seth Coleman, will tell them 
how to reach the Castle of Ballyshea, and how to find safe 
convoy, and tell you more of the estate wherewith it has 
pleased Heaven to reward my poor services. 

“ And so commending you to His holy keeping, no more 
from your loving brother, 

“Jephthah Kenton. 

The spelling of this was queer, even according to the 
ways of the time, but it was not hard to understand, and it 
might well fill Steadfast with amazement. 

He longed to share the tidings with Enilyn, but he did 
not feel as if it would be right to let any one hear before 
Patience. Only as he went back and called again at Mrs. 
LightfooPs for his basket, she asked whether he had found 
Seth Coleman, and if his brother had come to such prefer- 
ment as was reported. 

“ Yea,^^ said Steadfast, “ he hath a grant of land, and 
a castle, and a wife. ” 

‘‘ Eh, now! Lack-a-day ! ^Tis alway the most feather- 
pated that fly highest.’^ 

CromwelPs Ironsides feather-pated! But that did not 
trouble Steadfast, who all the way home, as he rode his don- 
key, was thinking of the difference it made in his prospects, 
and in what he had to offer Emlyn to be able to feel his 
tenure so much more secure. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


153 


Patience and Ben listened in utter amazement ending in 
a not complimentary laugh on the part of the former. 
“ Our Jeph lord of a castle? Pd like to see him.^^ 

“ Would you? He has a welcome and a husband ready 
for you and Rusha both.^^ 

D^ye think I would go and leave you for Jeph, if he 
were lord of ten castlesr^^ 

And Ben, whose recollections of Jeph were very dim, ex- 
claimed, “ Lord of a castle! I shall have a crow over Nick 
Blane now!” 

Rusha, who was well content with her service at the hall, 
had no mind for such a terrible enterprise as a journey 
“ beyond seas^^ to Ireland, and mayhap Jeph^s prospective 
husband was a less tempting idea, because a certain young 
groom had shown symptoms of making her his sweetheart. 

Steadfast thought often of telling the great secret of his 
heart to his faithful sister Patience, but his extreme shyness 
and modesty, and the reserve in which he always lived, 
seemed to make it impossible to him to broach the subject, 
and tliere might be a certain consciousness that Emlyn, 
while his own pet, had been very troublesome to Patience* 

Stead was two-and- twenty, a sturdy well-grown fellow, 
but the hard work he had been obliged to do as a growing 
lad had rounded his shoulders, and he certainly did not 
walk like the men who had been drilled for soldiers. His 
face was healthy and sunburned’ with fair short hair and 
straightforward gray eyes. At the first glance people would 
say, ‘‘ What a heavy-looking, clownish young man,” but 
at the second there was something that made a crying child 
in the street turn to him for help in distress, and made the 
marketing dames secure that he told the truth about his 
wares. 

Patience was rather startled by seeing him laboriously 
tying up a posy of wild rose, honeysuckle, and forget-me- 
not, and told him the Bristol folks would not buy those com- 
mon wild flowers. 


154 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“ They are for none of them/ ^ replied Stead, a little 
gruffly, and coloring hotly at being caught. 

‘‘ Oh!'' said Patience, in her simplicityo ‘‘ Are they for 
Emlyn? I do not think her mistress will let you see her. 

“ I shall,^^ said Stead. ‘‘ She ought to know of our good 
fortune. 

“ He has forgotten that Emlyn is not our sister after 
all,^^ said Patience, as she went back to her washing. 

“ She might as well,^' said Ben, who could not remem- 
ber the hut without Emlyn. 

Stead had better luck than Patience foreboded from a 
household where the servants were kept very strictly, for 
there was a good deal of curiosity in Bristol about the re- 
port that a lad from the neighborhood had won an Irish 
heiress and castle, and when Stead presented himself at the 
door of the house under the overhanging gable, and begged 
to see Emlyn Gaythorn to give her some tidings, the maid 
who opened it exclaimed, “Is it anent the castle in Ire- 
land?’^ 

Stead awkwardly said “Ay, mistress. And as it be- 
came evident that the readiest way of learning the facts 
would be his admission, he was let into the house into a 
sort of wainscoted hall, where he found the mistress her- 
self superintending three or four young seamstresses who 
were making shirts for the gentlemen of the garrison. 
Emlyn was among them, and sprung up looking as if white 
seams were not half so congenial as nutting in the gully; 
but she looked prettier than ever, as the little dark curls 
burst out of the prim white cap; she sniffed the flowers 
with ecstasy, and her eyes danced with delight that did 
Stead ^s heart good to see. He needed it, for to stand there 
hat in hand before so many women all staring at him fllled 
him with utter confusion, so that he could scarcely see, and 
stumbled along when Mrs. Sloggett called, “ Come here, 
young man. Is it true that it is your brother who has won 
a castle and a countess in Ireland 


UNDER THE STORH. 


155 


Not a countess, ma’am,’ ^ said Stead, gruff with shy- 
ness, “ but a castle.” 

Mrs. Sloggett put him through a perfect catechism on 
Jeph and his fortunes, which he answered aC-first almost 
monosyllabically, though afterward he could speak a little 
more freely when the questions did not go quite beyond 
his knowledge. Finally he succeeded in asking permission 
to take Emlyn and show her his brother’s letter. Mrs. 
Sloggett was gracious to the brother of the lord of a castle, 
even in Ireland, and moreover Emlyn was viewed in the 
light of one of the Kenton family. 

So leave was granted to take Master Kenton (he had 
never been so called before) out into the garden of pot- 
herbs behind the house, and Emlyn with her dancing step 
led the way, by a back door down a few steps into a space 
where a paved walk led between two beds of vegetables, 
bordered with a narrow edge of pinks, daisies, and gilli- 
flowers, to a seat under the shade of an old apple tree, look- 
ing out, as this was high ground, over the broad river full 
of shipping. 

“ Stead! Stead, good old Stead,” she cried, “ to come 
just as I was half dead with white seam and scolding! 
Emlyn here! Emlyn there! And she’s ready with her 
fingers too. She boxed mine ears till they sung again yes- 
terday. ” 

‘‘ The jade,’*’’ muttered Stead. What for?” 

‘‘ Only for looking out at window,” said Emlyn. “ How 
could I help it, when there were six outlandish sailors com- 
ing up the street leading a big black bear. Well, Stead, 
and are you all going to live with Jeph in his castle, and 
will you take me?” 

“ He asks me not,” said Stead, and began to read the 
letter, to which Emlyn listened with many little remarks. 
“ So Patience and Eusha won’t go. I marvel at them, yet 
’tis like sober-sided old Patty! And mayhap among the 
bogs and hills ’tis lonelier than in the gully. I mind a 


156 


UKDER THE STORM. 


trooper who had served in Ireland telling my father it was 
so desolate he would not banish a dog there. But what 
did he say about home. Stead, I thought it was all yours?^^ 

Stead explained, and also the possibility of endeavoring 
to rebuild the farm-house. If he could go to Mr. Elmwood 
with thirty pounds he thought it might be done. ‘^And 
then, Emlyn, when that is saved (and I have five pounds 
already), will you come and make it your home for good 
and all?^’ 

“ Stead! oh. Stead! You don^t mean it — ^you — Why, 
that's svveethearting!^' 

“ Well, so it is, Emlyn,'' said Stead, a certain dignity 
taking the place of his shyness now it had come to the 
point. “ I ask you to be my little sweetheart now, and 
my wife when I have enough to make, our old house such 
as it was when my good mother was alive. " 

Stead, Stead, you always were good to me! Will it 
take long, think you? I would save too, but I have but 
three crowns a year, and that sour-facea Eachel takes all 
the fees!" 

“ The thing is in the hands of God. It must depend on 
the crops, but with this hope before me, I will work as 
never man worked before," said Stead. 

“ And I will be mistress there!" cried Emlyn. 

My wife will be mistress wherever l am, sweet." 

Ah, ha!" she laughed, “ now I have something to look 
to, I shall heed little when the dame flouts me and scolds 
me, and Joan twits me with her cousin the 'prentice." 

They had only just time to go through the ceremony of 
breaking a tester between them before a shrill call of 
“ Emlyn " resounded down the garden. Mrs. Sloggett 
thought quite time enough had been wasted over the young 
man, and summoned the girl back to her sewing. 

Emlyn made a face of disgust, very comical and very 
joyous, but as the good dame was actually coming in search 
of her no more could pass. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


157 


Stead went away overflowing with happiness, and full of 
plans of raising the means of bringing back this sunshine 
of his hearth. Perhaps it was well that, though slow of 
thought. Patience still had wit enough in the long hours of 
the day to guess that the nosegay boded something. She 
could not daunt or damp SteadfasPs joy— nay, she had 
affection enough for the pretty little being she had 
cherished for seven years to think she shared it — but she 
knew all the time that there would be no place in that new 
farm-house for her, and there was a chill over her faithful 
heart at times. But what would that signify, she thought, 
provided that Stead was happy? 


CHAPTER XIX. 

PATIENCE. 

I’m the wealthy miller yet. 

Tennyson. 

Most devoted was the diligence with which Steadfast 
toiled and saved with the hope before him. Since the two 
young girls were no longer at home, and Ben had grown 
into a strong lad. Stead held that many little indulgences 
might be dispensed with, one by one, either because they 
cost money or prevented it from being acquired. Xo 
cheese was bought now, and he wanted to sell all the but- 
ter and all the apples that were not defective. 

Patience contrived that Ben should never be stinted of 
his usual fare; and she would not allow that he needed no 
warm coat for the winter, but she said nothing about the 
threadbare state of her own petticoat, and she stirred noth- 
ing but the thinnest buttermilk into her own porridge, and 
not even that when the little pigs required it. It was all 
for Stead. 

Patience at twenty was not an uncomely maiden so far 
as kindly blue eyes, fresh healthy cheeks, and perfect neat- 


158 


UNDER THE STORM. 


ness could make her agreeable to look at, but there was an 
air of carefulness, and of having done a great deal of hard 
work, which had made her seem out of the reach of the 
young men who loitered and talked with the maidens on 
the village green, and looked wistfully at the spot where 
the may-pole had once stood. 

Patience was the more amazed by a visit from the Miller 
Luck and his son. The son was a fine looking young man 
of three- or four-and-twenty, who had about three years be- 
fore married a farmer ^s daughter, and had lost her at the 
birth of her second child. There he stood, almost as bash- 
ful as Stead himself could have been under the circum- 
stances, while his father paid the astonished Patience the 
compliment of declaring that they had put their heads to- 
gether, and made up their minds that there was no wench 
in those parts so like to be a good mother to the babes, nor 
so thrifty a housewife as she; and, that, though there were 
plenty of maids to be had who could bring something in 
their hands, her ways were better than any portion she 
could bring. 

It really was a splendid offer. The position of miller’s 
wife was very prosperous, and the Lucks were highly re- 
spected. The old miller was good and kindly, Andrew 
Luck the steadiest of young men, and though not seen to 
much advantage as he stood sheepishly moving from leg to 
leg, he was a very fine, tall, handsome youth, with a cer- 
tain sweetness and wistful ness in his countenance. 
Patience had no scruples about previous love and court- 
ship. That was not the point as she answered — 

“ Thank you. Master Luck, you are very good; but I 
can not leave my brothers.” 

Let the big one get a wife of his own then,” and, as 
Patience shook her head, and glanced at where Ben, shy 
of strangers, was cutting rushes, “ and if you be tender on 
the young one, there would be work for him about the 
place. I know you have been a good mother to him, you’d 


UNDER THE STORM. 


159 


be the same to our little ones. Come, Andrew, can^t ye 
saw a word for yourself? 

Come, Patience, do ^ee come!^^ pleaded poor Andrew, 
and the tears even sprung to his eyes. “ I^d be very good 
to thee, and I know thou would^st be to my poor babes. 

Patience ^s heart really warmed to him, and still more to 
the babes, but she could only hold out. 

“ You must find another,^^ she said. 

“ Come, you need not be coy, my lass,^^ said the old 
miller. “ You^ll not get a better offer, and Andrew has 
no time nor heart either for running about courting. What 
he wants is a good wife to cheer him up, and see to the 
poor little children. 

It was powerful pleading, and Patience felt it. 

“ Ay, Master Miller,^' she said, ‘‘ but you see I^m bound 
not to leave Steadfast till he is married. He could not get 
on no ways without me. ” 

“ Then why — a plague on it — donT he wed and have 
done with it?^^ 

He can not, said Patience, ^Hill he has made up 
enough to build up our old house, but that wonH be yet 
awhile — for years may be; and he could not do it without 
me to help him.^^ 

And whaPs to become of you when youVe let your 
best years go by a-toiling for him, and your chance is gone 
by, and his wife turns you to the door?^^ said Master Luck, 
not very delicately. 

“ That God will provide, said Patience, reverently. 
‘‘Anyway, I must cleave to Steadfast though Tis very 
good of you. Master Luck and Master Andrew, and I never 
could have thought of such a thing, and I am right sorry 
for the little ones.^^ 

“ If you would only come and see them!^^ burst out the 
poor young father. . “You never see such a winsome little 
poppet as Bess. And they be so young now, they'd never 
know you were not their own mother. " 


160 


UNDER THE STORM. 


‘‘ Don% don^t. Master Andrev^!^^ cried Patience, ‘‘I 
tell you I'd come if I could, but you can't wait, and they 
can't wait; and you must find a good mother at once for 
them, for I have passed my word to hold by Stead till he 
is married, and I must keep to it." 

“ Very well, my lass," said the miller, grimly. 
“ There's wenches better portioned and better favored 
than you, and I hope you won't have to repent of missing 
a good offer. " 

Of course he said it as if he hoped she would. Patience 
cried heartily when they were gone. Ben came up to her 
and gldwered after them, declaring he wouldn't have his 
Patty go to be only a step-mother to troublesome brats; 
but Stead, when he came to know of it, looked grave, and 
said it was very good of Pat; but he wished she could have 
kept the young fellow in play till she was ready for him. 

Goody Grace, who was looking after the children till the 
step-mother could be found, came and expostulated with 
Patience, telling her she was foolish to miss such a chance, 
and that she would find out her mistake when Stead mar- 
ried and that little flighty, light-headed wench made the 
place too hot to hold her. What would she do then? 

.‘‘Come and help you nurse the folk. Goody," said 
Patience, cheerfully. 

Her heart would fail her sometimes at the outlook, but 
she was too busy to think much about it. Only the long 
evenings had been pleasanter when Stead used to teach 
Ben to read Mr. Eales's books and tell her bits such as she 
could understand than now when he grudged a candle big 
enough to be of any use, and was only plaiting rushes and 
reckoning up what everything would bring. 

Ben was a bright little fellow, and could read as well as 
his brother. He longed for school, for when boys were not 
obliged to learn, some of them wished to do so. There 
was a free grammar school about three miles off to which 
he wanted to go, and Patience, who was proud of his 


TJKDER the storm. 161 

ability, wished to send liim, neither of them thinking any- 
thing of the walk. 

Stead, however, could see no use in more learning than 
he had himself. Neither he nor Jeph had been to school. 
Why should the child go? He could not be spared just as 
he was getting old enough to be of some use and save time, 
which was money. 

And when the little fellow showed his disappointment. 
Stead was even surly in telling him, “ they wanted no up- 
starts. 

It was a hard winter, and the frost was followed by a 
great deal of wet. One of the sheep was swept away by 
the flood; three or four lambs died; and Stead, for about 
the first time in his life, caught a severe feverish cold in 
looking after the flock, and was laid by for a day or two, veiy 
cross and fretful at everything going wrong without him. 

_ Poor little Ben was more railed at for those few days 
than ever he had been before, and next he broke down and 
had to be nursed; and then came Patience’s turn. She 
was ill enough to frighten her brothers; and Goody Grace, 
who came to see to her, finding how thin her blanket was, 
and how long it was since she had had any food but por- 
ridge, gave Steadfast a thorough good scolding, told him 
he would be the death of a better sister than he deserved, 
and set before him how only for his sake Patience might 
be living on the fat of the land at the mill. 

To all appearance. Stead listened sulkily enough, but by 
and by Goody found a fowl killed and laid ready for use. 
It was an old hen, whose death set Patience crying in her 
weakness. Nevertheless, it was stewed down into broth 
which heartened her up considerably, and a blanket that 
came home rolled up on the donkey’s back warmed her 
heart as much as her limbs. 

Mrs. Elmwood spared Pusha for a week, and it was 
funny to see how the girl wondered at its having been pos- 
sible to live in such a den. She absolutely cried when Ben 


162 


TJKDER THE STORM. 


told her how hard they had been living, and said she did 
not think Stead would ever have used Patience so. 

“ Then why did she make as if she liked it?’^ said Stead, 
gruffly. 

But for all that Stead was too sound -hearted not to be 
grieved at himself, and to see that his love and impatience 
had led him into unkindness to those who depended on 
him; and when Master Woodley preached against love of 
money ho felt pricked at the heart, though it had not been 
the gain in itself that he aimed at. And when he had to 
go to the mil], the sight of the comfortable great kitchen, 
with the open hearth, glowing fire, seats on either side, tall 
settle, and the flitches of bacon on the rafters, seemed to 
reproach him additionally. The difiSculties there had been 
staved off by the old miller himself marrying a stout, 
motherly widow, who had a real delight in the charge of a 
baby. 

For,'’^ said Master Luck, “ Andrew and I could agree 
on no one for him.^^ 

Moreover, Stead ceased to grunt contemptuously when 
Patience, with Goody Grace to back her, declared that Ben 
was too young and slight for farm work. 

The boy was allowed to trudge his daily three miles to 
school, and there his progress was the wonder and delight 
of his slower-witted brother and sister. 


CHAPTER XX. 

EMLYH^ S SERVICE. 

Oh, blind mine eye that would not trace, 

And deaf mine ear that would not heed 
The mocking smile upon her face. 

The mocking voice of greed. 

Lewis Carroll. 

When Lady-day came round. Steadfast found to his de- 
light and surprise a little figure dancing out to meet him 
from Mrs. LightfooPs. 


UNDER THE STORM. 


163 


‘ ‘ There, Master Stead. Are not you glad to see me, or 
be you too dumfounded to get out a word, like good old 
Jenny?^^ stroking the*'donkey’s ears. “ Posies of prim- 
roses! How sweet they be! You must spare me one.^^ 

‘‘ As many as you will, sweetheart. They be all for you, 
whether given or sold. And you’ve got a holiday for 
Lady-day. ” 

“ Have a care! I got my ears boxed for such a Popish 
word. ’Tis but quarter day, you know, being that, hang, 
draw, and quarter is more to the present folks’ mind than 
ladies or saints. I have changed my service, you must 
know, as poor Dick used to sing: 

“Have a new master, be a new man.” 

“ You have not heard fromyour own folk?” cried Stead, 
this being what he most dreaded. 

“ Nay. But I can away no more with Dame Sloggett, 
and Cross-patch Rachel, white seam and salmon, and plain 
collars. So I bade her farewell at the end of the year, and 
I’ve got a new mistress. ” 

Stead stood with open mouth. To change service at the 
end of a year was barely creditable in those days, and to 
do so without consultation with home was unkind and 
alarming. 

“ There now, don’t be crooked about it. I had not time 
to come out and tell you and Patience, the old crones kept 
me so close, stitching at shirts for a captain that is to sail 
next week, and I knew you would be coming in.” 

“ Where is it?” was all Stead uttered. 

“ What think you of Master Henshaw’s, the great mer- 
chant, and an honest well-wisher to King and Church to 
boot?” 

Master Henshaw, the West Indian merchant! His is 
a good, well-ordered household, and he holds with the old 
ways. ” 

I 


164 


UNDER THE STORM. 


‘‘ Yes. He was out that Whitsun morning we wot of/^ 
said Emlyn. “ I wist well you would be pleased. 

“ But I thought his good lady was- dead/ ^ sard Steadfast. 

“ So she is. She that came out to the gully, but there^s 
a new Mistress Henshaw, a sweet young lady, of a loyal 
house, the Aylilfes of Calfield. And I am to be her own 
woman. 

“Own woman, said Mrs. Lightfoot, for they were by 
this time among the loaves in' her stall. “ Merchants^ 
wives did not use to have women of their own in my time. 
For this was the title of a lady ^s-m aid, and rules as to 
household appointments were strictly observed before the 
rebellion. 

“ Mistress Henshaw is a gentlewoman born,^^ returned 
Emlyn, with a toss of her head. “ She ought to have all 
that is becoming her station in return for being wedded to 
an old hunks like that! And ^tis very well she should have 
one like me who has seen what becomes good blood ! So 
commend me to Patience and Kusha, and tell Ben may be 
I shall have an orange to send him one of these days. And 
• cheer up. Stead. I shall get five crowns and two gowns a 
year, and many a fee besides when there is company, so we 
may build the house the sooner, and I shall not be mewed 
up, and shall see the more of thee. ^Tis all for you. So 
never look so gloomy on it, old Sobersides.'^ 

And she turned her sweet face to him, and coaxed and 
charmed him into being satisfied that all was well, dwell- 
ing on the loyalty and excellence of the master of the house. 
He found it true that it was much easier to see Emlyn than 
before. Mrs. Henshaw, a pretty young creature, not much 
older than Emlyn, was pleased to do her own marketing, 
and came out attended by Emlyn, and a little black slave 
boy carrying a basket. She generally bought all that 
Steadfast had to sell, and then gave smiling thanks when 
he offered to help carry home her purchases. She would 
join company with some of her acquaintance, and leave the 


UNDER THE STORM. 


165 


lovers to walk together, only accompanied by little Diego, 
or Diggo, as they called him, whose English was of the 
most rudimentary description. 

Emlyn certainly was very happy in her new quarters. 
Neither her lady nor herself was arrayed with the rigid 
plainness exacted by Puritanism, and many disapproving 
glances were cast upon the fair young pair, mistress and 
maid, by the sterner matrons. Waiting- women could not 
indulge in much finery, but whatever breast-knots and tiny 
curls beyond her little tight cap could do, Emlyn did with- 
out fear of rebuke. Stead tried to believe that the disap- 
proving looks and words, by which Mrs. Lightfoot intima- 
ted that she heard reports unfavorable to the household 
were only due to the general distrust and dislike to the 
bright and lively Emlyn. Mrs. Lightfoot was no Puritan 
herself, but her gossips were, and he received her observa- 
tions with a dull, stony look that vexed her, by intimating 
that it was no business of hers. 

Still it was borne in upon him that, good man as Mr. 
Henshaw certainly was, the household was altered. It had 
been poverty and distress which had led the Aylifie family, 
to give their young sister to a man so much her elder, 
and inferior in position; and perhaps still more a desire to 
confirm the Eoyalist footing in the city of Bristol. The 
lady^s brothers were penniless Cavaliers, and one of them 
made her house his home, and a center of Eoyalist plots 
and intelligences, which excited Emlyn very much by the 
certainty that something was going on, though what it was, 
• of course, she did not know; and at any rate there was 
coming and going, and all sorts of people were to be seen 
at the merchant's hospitable table, all manner of news to 
be had here, there and everywhere, with which she de- 
lighted to entertain Steadfast, and show her own import- 
ance. 

It was not often good news as regarded the Cavalier 
cause, for Cromwell was fixing himself in his seat; and 


166 


UNDER THE STORM. 


every endeavor to hatch a scheme against him was frus- 
trated, and led to the flight or death of those concerned in 
it. However, so long as Emlyn had something to tell, it 
made little difference whether the tidings were good or bad, 
whether they concerned Admiral Blake ^s fleet, or her mis- 
tresses little Italian greyhound. By and by, however, in- 
stead of Mrs. Henshaw, there came to market Madame 
Ayliffe, her mother, a staid, elderly lady, all in black, who 
might as well, Emlyn said, have been a Puritan. 

She looked gravely at Stead, and said, “ Young man, I 
am told that you are well approved and trustworthy, and 
that my daughter suffers you to walk home with this 
maiden, you being troth plight to her. ” 

Stead assented. 

“ I will, therefore, not forbid it, trusting that if you be, 
as 1 hear, a prudent youth, you may bring her to a more 
discreet and obedient behavior than hath been hers of late."^^ 
So saying, Mrs. Ayliffe joined company with the old 
Cavalier Colonel and went on her way as Emlyn made that 
ugly face that Stead knew of old, clinched her hand and 
muttered: ‘‘Old witch! She is a Puritan at heart, after 
all I She is turning the house upside down, and my poor 
mistress has not spirit to say ^tis her own, with the old 
woman and the old hunks both against her! Why, she 
threatened to beat me because, forsooth, the major'^s man 
was but giving me the time of day on the stairs!’^ 

“Was that what she meant asked Stead. 

“ Assuredly it was. Trying to set you against me, the 
spiteful old make-bate, and no one knows how long she 
will be here, falling on the poor lads if they do but sing a 
song in the hall after supper, as if she were a very Muggle- 
tonian herself. I trow she is no better. 

“ Did you not tell me how she held out her house against 
the Roundheads, and went to prison for sheltering Cav- 
aliers?’' 

“ I only wish they had kept her there. All old women 


UNDER THE STORM. 


167 


be Puritans at heart. I say. Stead, Pll have done with 
service. Let us be wed at once.^^ 

Stead could hardly breathe at this proposition. “ But 
I have only nine pounds and two crowns and—"’ he began. 

“ No matter, there be other ways,” she went on. “ Get 
the house built, and I’ll come, and we will have curds and 
whey all the summer, and mistress and all her friends will 
come out and drink it, and eat strawberries!” 

“ But the Squire will never build the place up unless I 
bring more in hand.” 

“You ‘but ’enough to butt down a wall, you dull- 
pated old Stead,” said Emlyn; “ you know where to get at 
more, and so do I. ” 

Stead’s gray eyes fixed on her in astonishment and be- 
wilderment. 

“ Numskull!” she exclaimed, but still in that good-hu- 
mored voice of banter that he never had withstood, “ you 
know what I mean, though may be you would not have 
me say it in the street, you that have secrets.” 

“How do you know of it?” 

“ Have not I eyes, though some folk have not? Could 
not I look out at a chink on a fine summer morning, when 
you thought the children asleep? Could not I climb up to 
your precious cave as well as yourself; and hear the iron 
clink under the stone? Ha, ha! and you and Patience 
thought no one knew but yourselves.” 

“ I trust no one else does.” 

“ No, no, I’m no gad-about, whatever you may be 
pleased to think me. They say everything comes of use in 
seven years, and it must be over that now.” 

“ Ten since ’twas hidden, nigh seven since that Whit- 
suntide. There’s never a parson who could come out, is 
there? Besides, with Peter Woodward nigh, ’tis not safe 
to meet.” 

“ That’s what your head is running on. No, no. They 
will never have it out again that fashion. The old Prayer- 


168 


UNDER THE STORM. 


book is banished forever and a day! I heard master and 
the Captain say that now old Noll has got his will, he will 
soon call himself king, and there ^s no hope of churches or 
parsons coming back; and old madam e sat and cried. The 
Jack Presbyters and the rest of the sectaries have got it all 
their own way. 

“ Dr. Eales said I had no right to give it to Master 
Woodley, or any that was not the right sort. 

So why should you go on keeping it there rotting for 
nothing, when it might just hinder us* from wearing our 
very lives out while you are plodding and saving? 

Stead stood stock still, as her meaning dawned on him, 
“ Child, you know not what you say,^^ at last he uttered. 

“ Ah well, you are slow to take things in; but you^ll do 
it at last. 

“lam slow to take in this,^^ said Stead. “ Would you 
have me rob God?^^ 

“ No, only the owls and the bats,^’ said Emlyn. “ If 
they are the better for the silver and gold under them! 
What good can it do to let it lie there and rot?’^ 

“ Gold rots not!^^ growled Stead. 

“Tarnishes, spoils then!^’ said Ernlyn, pettishly. 
“ Come, what good is^t to any mortal soul there?” 

“ It is none of mine. ” 

“ Not after seven years? Come, look you now. Stead, 
^tis not only being tired of service and sharp words, and 
nips and blows, but I donT like being mocked for having 
a clown and a lubber for my sweetheart. Oh, yes! they 
do, and there^s a skipper and two mates, and a clerk, and 
a well-to-do locksmith, besides gentlemen^s valets and 
others I donT account of, who would all cut off their little 
fingers if Vd only once look at them as I am doing at you, 
you old block, who donT heed it, and I donT know that I 
can hold out against them all,^^ she added, looking down: 
with a sudden shyness; “ specially the mates. There^s; 
Jonah Bichards, who has a ship building that he is to have 


UNDER THE STORM. 


m 


of his own, and he wants to call it the ‘ Sprightly Emlyn/ 
and the other sailed with Prince Kupert, and made ever so 
many prizes, and how am I to stand out when you don^t 
value me th.e worth of an old silver cup?^^ 

“ Come, come, Em, thaPs only to frighten a man. ” 
But she knew in his tone that he teas frightened. 

“ Not a bit! I should be ever so much better off in a 
tidy little house where I could see all that came and went 
than up in your lane with naught to go by but the market 
folk. ^Tis not every one that would have kept true to a 
big country lout like you, like that lady among the salvage 
men that the King spoke of; and I get nothing by it but 
wait, wait, wait, when there^s stores of silver ready to your 
hand."^ 

‘‘Heaven knows, and you know, Emlyn, ^tis not for 
want of love.^' 

“ Heaven may know, but I don^t.^^ 

“ I gave my solemn word.^^ 

“ And you have kept it these ten years, and all is 
changed. Then altering her tone, “ There now, I know 
it takes an hour to beat a notion into that slow brain of 
yours, and here we be at home, and I shall have madame 
after me. ITl leave you to see the sense of it, and if I do 
not hear of something before long, why, then, I shall know 
how much you care for poor little Emlyn. 

With which last words she flitted within the gates, leav- 
ing Steadfast still too much stunned to realize all she 
meant, as he turned homeward; but all grew on him in 
time, the idea that Emlyn, his Emlyn, his orphan of the 
battlefield, bereaved for the sake of King and Church, 
should be striving to make him betray his trust! “ The 
silver is Mine and the gold is Mine,^^ rang in his ears, and 
yet was it not cruel that when she really loved him best, 
and sought to return to him as a refuge from the many 
temptations to her lively spirit, he should be forced to 
leave her in the midst of them— against her own warning 


170 


UNDER THE STORM. 


and even entreaty, and not only himself lose her, but lose 
her to one of those godless, riotous sailors who were the 
dread and bane of the neighborhood? Was not a human 
soul worth as much as a consecrated Chalice? < 

These were the debates in Steadfast^s much tormented 
soul. He could think, though he could not clothe his 
thoughts in words, and day after day, night after night he 
did think, while Patience wondered at the heavy moodiness 
that seemed to have come over him. He would not open 
his lips to ask her counsel, being quite certain of what it 
would be, and not choosing to hear her censure of Enilyn 
for what he managed to excuse by the poor child ^s igno- 
rance and want of training, and by her ardent desire to be 
under his wing and escape from temptation. 

He recollected a thousand pleas that he might have used 
with her, to show it was not want of love but a sacred 
pledge that withheld him, and market-day after market- 
day he went in, priming himself all the way with argu- 
ments that were to confirm her constancy, arm her against 
temptation, and assure her of his unalterable love, though 
he might not break his vow, nor lay his hand upon sacred 
things. 

But whether Emlyn would not, or could not, meet him, 
he did not know, for a week or two went by before he saw 
her, and then she was carrying a great fan for her young 
mistress, who was walking with a Cavalier, as gay as Cava- 
liers ever ventured to be, and another young lady, whose 
waiting woman had paired with Emlyn. They were minc- 
ing along, gazing about them, and uttering little con- 
temptuous titters, and Stead could only too well guess 
what kind of remarks Emlyn^s companion might make 
upon him. 

Near his stand, however, the other lady beckoned her 
maid to adjust something in her dress; and Stead could 
approach Emlyn. She looked up with her bright, laugh- 
ing eyes with a certain wistfulness in them. 


UNDER THE STORM. 171 

‘‘ Have you made up your mind to cheat the owls?^^ she 
asked. 

“ Emlyn, if you would not speak so lightly, I could show 
cause — 

“ Oh, that’s enough,^ ^ she answered, hastily, turning as 
the other maid joined her; and Stead caught the shrill, 
pert voice demanding if that was her swain with clouted 
shoes. Emlyn’s reply he could not hear, but he saw the 
twist of the shoulders. 

There are bitter moments in every one’s life, and that 
was one of the very bitterest of Steadfast Kenton’s. 


CHAPTEE XXL 

THE ASSAULT OF THE CAVERN. 

By all description this should be the place. 

Who’s here? 

Shakespeare. 

Harvest was over, and the autumn evenings were dark- 
ening. It was later than the usual bed-time, but Patience 
had a piece of spinning which she was anxious to finish for 
the weaver who took all her yarn, and Stead was reading 
Dr. Eales’s gift of the Morte d ’Arthur, which had great 
fascination for him, though he never knew whether to re- 
gard it as truth or fable. He wanted to drive out the 
memory of what Mrs. Lightfoot had told him about the 
Henshaw household, where the youngest of the lady’s 
brothers had lately arrived from beyond seas, bringing with 
him habits of noise and riot, which greatly scandalized the 
neighbors. 

Suddenly Growler started up with pricked ears, and 
emitted a sound like thunder. Patience checked her 
wheel. There was an unmistakable sound of steps. Stead 
sprung up. Growler rushed at the door with a furious vol- 


m 


tJNDEK THE STORM. 


ley of barking. Stead threw it open, catching up a stout 
stick as he did so, and the dog dashed out, but was instant- 
ly driven back with an oath and a blow. It was a bright 
moonlight night, and Stead beheld three tall men evident- 
ly well armed. 

‘‘Ho, you fellow there, one called out, “keep back 
your cur, we donH want to hurt him nor you.” 

“ Then what are you doing here:’' demanded Stead. 

“We are come for what you wot of. For the King’s 
service. ” 

“ Who sent you?” asked Stead, for the moment some- 
what dazed. 

One of them laughed and said, “ As if you did not 
know.” 

There was a sickening perception, but Stead’s powers 
were alert enough for him to exclaim, “ Then you have no 
warrant?” 

“ My good fellow, don’t stickle about such trifles. For 
the King’s service it is, and that should be enough for all 
loyal hearts. Halloo, what’s that? Silence your dog, I 
say,” as Growler’s voice resounded through the gully, 
“ or it will be the worse for you and him.” 

Stead took hold of the dog’s collar, and amidst his 
choked grumbles, said, “ I do naught but on true war- 
rant.” 

“Hark ye, blockhead,” said the foremost. “I’m an 
officer of His Majesty’s, with power to make requisitions 
for his service.” 

“ Show it,” said Stead, quite convinced that this was 
sheer robbery. 

“ You addle-pated, insolent clown, to dispute terms with 
gentlemen in His Majesty’s service. Stand aside. I’ve 
done you only too much honor by parleying with you. 
Out of the way. We don’t want to take a stick of your 
own trumpery, I say. ” 

“ Sir, it is Church plate.” 


tJKBEn TlTK STORM. 


173 


“ Ha, ha! Church plate is His Most Sacred Majesty’s 
plate. Don’t ye know that, you ass? Here! we’ll throw 
you back something for yourself if you will show us the cave 
and save us trouble, for we know which it is by the token 
of the red stone and twisted ash. Ho! take — What’s 
become of the clown? He has run off. Discreet fellow!” 

For Stead had disappeared in the black darkness behind 
the hut. He remembered Jephthah’s discomfiture by the 
owl, and it struck him that from within the cavern it 
would be quite possible to keep the robbers at bay if they 
tried without knowing the way to climb up among the 
bushes. He was not afraid for his brother and sister, as 
the marauders evidently did not want anything but the 
plate. Indeed, his whole soul was so concentrated on the 
defense of his charge that he had no room for anything 
else. 

Knowing the place perfectly, Stead had time to swing 
himself, armed with a stout bludgeou, up into the hermit’s 
cave, and even to drag after him Growler, a very efficient 
ally. The contrasts of moonlight were all in his favor, the 
lights almost as bright as in sunshine, the shadows so very 
dark. He could see through the overhanging ivy and 
travelers’ joy the men peering about with their dark lan- 
tern, looking into the caves where the pigs were, among 
the trees, and he held Growler’s mouth together lest the 
grim murmurs that were rolling in the beast’s throat 
should serve as a guide. 

Then he heard them shout to Patience to come and 
guide them since her coward of a brother had made off, 
and he heard her answer, Not I, ’tis no business of 
mine.” 

“We’ll see about that. D’ye know how folks are made 
to speak, my lass?” 

Then Stead recollected with horror that he had left her 
to her fate. Would he be obliged to come down to her 
help? At that moment, however, there was a call from 


174 


UNDER THE STORM. 


the fellow who bore the lantern. ‘‘ Here^s the red stone. 
That must be the ash. Now then 

“ You first, Nick.^^ Then came a crackling and.xust- 
ling of boughs, a head appeared, and at that moment 
Stead loosed Growler and would have dealt a blow with his 
stick, but that the assault of the dog had sufiiced to send 
the assailant, roaring and cursing, headlong down the 
crag. 

Furious threats came up to him and his dog, but he 
heard them in silence, though Growler’s replies were vocif- 
erous. Stead gathered that the fall had in some degree 
hurt the man, for he made an exclamation of pain, and 
the others bade him stay there and keep back the wench. 

WeTl have you down though we smoke you out like a 
wasp’s nest, you disloyal adder, you,” was one of threats. 

“ Or serve him like the Spaniard at Porto Santo,” said 
another. 

Presently after numerous threats and warnings that they 
had fire-arms and were determined to use them, two of the 
men began climbing much more cautiously, holding by the 
trees, so as not to be suddenly overthrown. However, the 
furious attack of such a dog as Growler, springing from 
utter darkness, was a formidable matter, and the man 
against whom he had launched himself could not but fall 
in his turn, but the dog went after him, and the compan- 
ion, being on his guard, was not overthrown. Stead aimed 
a blow at the fellow with all his might, but the slouching 
hat warded off the full force of the bludgeon. Then Stead 
sprung at him and grappled with him. There was the re- 
port of a pistol, and both rolled headlong among the 
bushes, but at that moment a fresh shout was heard — a cry 
of “ Villains, traitors, robbers — what be atr” and a rush 
of feet, while in the moonlight appeared Peter Pierce with 
his fowling-piece, another man, Ben, and four or five dogs. 

The robbers never waited to see how small the re-enforce- 
ment was, and it made noise enough for the whole hue- 


UNDER THE STORM. 


175 


and-cry of the parish. Off they dashed, through the wood, 
the new-comers after them. 

But all Patience knew was that Steadfast was lying 
senseless at the bottom of the cliff, with poor Growler 
moaning by him, and licking his face, and that her hands 
. were wet with what must be blood. 

It was too dark to see anything, but she could hardly 
bear to leave him, as she hurried back to the hut for the 
lantern. All this had taken but few minutes, so that she 
had only to catch it up from the table where Stead ^s book 
still lay. 

By the time she came back, he had opened his eyes, and 
his hand was on Growler ^s head. 

Are they gone?^^ he asked, faintly. 

“ Yes, and Peter after them. Oh! Stead, you are badly 
hurt."" 

“ They have not got it?"" 

“ Oh, no, no, you saved it. "" 

“ Thank God. Is Ben safe?"" 

“ Yes, after them with Peter. I sent him out while you 
were talking to call Peter."" 

Good — "" and his eyes closed again. Good Growler, 
poor Growl — "" he added, fondling 'the big heM, as the 
dog moaned. ‘‘ See to him, Pat."" 

“ I must see to you first. Oh! Stead, is it very bad?"" 

“ I"ll try to get in, if you"ll help* me."" 

He raised himself, but this effort brought a rush of blood 
to the lips, which greatly terrified Patience. To her great 
relief, however, Nanny Pierce having satisfied herself that 
all was quiet round the hiit, here called out to ask where 
Patience was. She was profuse in “ Lack-a-daisy!"" 
‘‘Dear heart!"" and “Poor soul!"" and was quite sure 
Stead was as good as a dead man; but she had strong 
arms, and so had Patience, and when they had done what 
they could to stanch the wound in his side, which, how- 
ever, was not bleeding much externally, they carried him 


176 


UNDER THE STORM. 


in between them to Patience’s bed which had been 
Emlyn’s, and therefore was the least uncomfortable. Poor 
Growler crept after, bleeding a good deal, and Steadfast 
would not rest till his faithful comrade W’as looked to. 
There was a dagger cut in his chest, which Nanny, used to 
dog doctoring, bound up, after which the creature came 
close to his master, and fell under his hand. 

It was a very faint hand. Movement or speech alike 
brought blood to the mouth, and Stead’s ruddy cheeks 
were becoming deadly white. He struggled to say, ‘‘ You 
and Ben guard it! Say a prayer, Pat,” and then the two 
women really thought that in the gush that followed all 
was over, and Nanny marveled at the stunned calm in 
which Patience went over the Lord’s Prayer, and such 
Psalms as she could remember. 

Steps came, and Nanny shrieked. Then she saw it was 
her husband and the other two men. 

‘‘Made off to the town,” said Peter, gruffly. “How 
now~hurt?” 

“ Oh, Peter, they have made an end of the poor lad. 
Died like a lamb, even now.” 

“ No, no,” said Peter, as he came close to the bed with 
his more experienced eye; “he ain’t dead. ’Tis but a 
swoon. Hast any strong waters, Pat? No, I’ll be bound. 
Ho, you now. Bill, run and knock them up at the Elm- 
wood Arms, and bring down a gill. ” 

“ And call Goody Grace,” entreated Patience, “ she will 
know what best to do.” 

On the whole, Peter’s military experience was more 
hopeful, if not morelielpful than Goody Grace’s. He was 
the only person who persisted in declaring that such 
wounds were not always mortal, though he agreed in own- 
ing that the inward bleeding was the worst sign. Stead 
did not attempt to speak again, but lay there deadly white 
and with a stricken look on his face, which Patience could 


UNDER THE STORM. 177 

not bear to see, and she ascribed to the conviction that the 
wretched little Emlyn must have betrayed his secret. 

The hut was overfull of volunteers of assistance and in- 
quiry the next day, including the squire and Master Wood- 
ley; but nobody seemed to guess at the real object of the 
robbers^ attack, everybody thinking they had come for the 
savings which Stead was known to be making toward re- 
building the farm-house. 

Mr. Elmwood was very indignant and took Pierce, and 
Blane the constable, into Bristol to see whether the felons 
could be captured and brought to justice, but they proved 
to have gone down to the wharf, and to have got on board 
a vessel which had dropped down the river in the early 
morning. They were also more than suspected of being 
no other than buccaneers who plied their trade of piracy in 
the West Indies. The young Aylilfe had gone with them, 
and was by no means above suspicion. 

Mr. Elmwood also brought out a barber surgeon to see 
young Kenton, a thing which his sister would not have 
dared to propose. But there was not much to be done, 
the doctor decided that the bullet was where the attempt 
at extraction would be fatal, and that the only hope of 
even partial recovery was in perfect stillness and silence — 
and this Patience could promise to insure as far as in her 
lay. Instructions on dressing the wound were given to 
her, and she was tj send into the barber’s shop if oint- 
ment or other appliances were needed. This was all that 
she was to expect, and more indeed than she had thought 
feasible; for folks of their condition were sick and got 
well, lived or died without the aid of practitioners above 
the skill of Goody Grace. However, he gave her very little 
hope, though he would not pronounce that her brother was 
dying. A few days would decide, and quiet was the only 
chance. 

Scarcely, however, were the visitors gone, and Stead left 
to what rest pain would allow him after being handled by 


178 


UNDER THE STORM. 


the surgeon, when a sound of sobbing was heard outside. 
“Oh! oh! Tin afraid to go in! Ben! Oh! tell me, is 
he not dead? I^m the most miserable maid in the world 
if he is.-’^ 

“ He^s alive, small thinks to you,^^ responded Ben, who 
had somehow arrived at the knowledge of the facts, while 
Eusha, who was milking, buried her head in Daisy^s side, 
and would not even look at her. Patience felt in utter de- 
spair, and longed to misunderstand Stead ^s signs to her to 
open the door. She tried to impress the need of quiet, 
but Emlyn darted in, her hood pushed back, her hair fly- 
ing, her dress disordered, looking half wild, and dropping 
on the floor, she crouched there with clasped hands, cry- 
ing, “ Oh! oh! he looks like death. He^ll die and I^m the 
most — 

“ If you make all that noise and tumult he will,^^ said 
Patience, who could bear no more. “ Are you come here 
to finish what you have done? Do go away.^^ 

“Oh! but I must tell you! They said it was for the 
King, and that he had the right. Yes, they did, and they 
swore that they would hurt no one.'’^ Stead looked to a 
certain extent pleased, but Patience broke out, “ As if you 
did not know he would rather die than give up his trust. 

“ I thought he would never know — 

“ Eobber!^^ said Patience. “ Go! You have done harm 
enough already. , 

“But I must tell 5"ou,^^ persisted Emlyn. “I used to 
see Dick Glass among Lord Goring’s troopers, and he is 
from our parts, and he has been with Prince Eupert. 
There was a plot, I know there is, and both the Master 
Ayliffes are in it, and we were to go and raise Worcester- 
shire, only they wanted money, and Dick was to — to wed 
me — and set us across the river this morning, when they 
had got the treasure. •’Twas for the King. And now they 
are all gone, Master Philip and all, and master says they 
are filibusters, and pirates, and robbers; and Mrs. Light- 


UNDER THE STORM. 


m 


foot’s boy came and said Stead Kenton was shot dead at 
his house door, and then I was neither to have nor to hold, 
but I ran off here like one distraught, for I never loved 
any one like you. Stead.” 

Pretty love!” said Patience. “ Oh! if you think you 
love him, go and let him be at peace. ” 

“I do! I do!” cried the girl, quite unmanageable. 
“Only it made me mad that he should heed an old chest 
and a musty parson more than me, and so I took up with 
Dick, and he overpersuaded me with his smooth tongue 
that we would raise folk for the King. ” 

Stead held out his hand. 

“Oh! Stead, Stead, you are always kinder than 
Patience! You forgive me, dear old Stead, do not you? 
And I’ll tend you day and night, and you shall not die, 
and I’ll wed you, if you have naught but the shirt to your 
back.” 

Patience felt nearly distracted at the notion of Emlyn 
there day and night, but at that instant Goody Grace, who 
had been to her home in preparation for spending the 
night in nursing, walked in. 

“ How now, mistress, what are you about here?” 

“ She wants to stay and tend him, and I don’t know 
whether she has come with her mistress’s knowledge,” 
sighed Patience. 

“Fine tendance!” said the old woman. “My laSy 
wants to kill him outright. Nay, nay, my young ma- 
dame, we want none of your airs and flights here. You 
can do no good, except by making yourself scarce— you 
that can’t hold your tongue a monaent.” 

Stead here whispered, “ Her mistress, will she forgive 
her?” 

“ Oh, yes, no fear but that she will,” said Emlyn, who 
perhaps had revolved in her mind, since her first impulse, 
what it would be to nurse Stead in that hovel, with two 
such displeased companions as Goody and Patience. More 


180 


UNDER THE STORM. 


to pacify Steadfast uneasy eyes than for her own sake. 
Patience gave her a drink of milk and a piece of bread, 
and Peter coming just then to ask if he could help Ben 
with the cattle, undertook to see her safely on her way, 
since twilight was coming on. Sobered and awe-struck by 
the silence and evident condemnation of all around, she 
ended by flinging herself on her knees by the bed, and 
saying, “ Stead, Stead, you forgive me, though no one 
else does?^^ 

‘‘ Poor child — I do— as I hope — 

‘‘ The blood again. You’ve done it now,” exclaimed 
Goody Grace. “ Away with you!” 

Peter fairly dragged her out, while the women attended 
to Stead. 

But he let her wait outside till they heard, “ Not dead, 
but not far from it.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

emlyn’s troth. 

Woman’s love is writ in water, 

Woman’s faith is traced in sand. 

Aytoun. 

Day after day Steadfast Kenton lingered between life 
and death, and though the external wound healed, there 
was little relief to the deeper injury which could not be 
reached, and which the damps and chills of autumn and 
winter could only aggravate. 

He could move little, and speak even less; and suffered 
much, both from pain and difficulty of breathing, as he 
lay against sacks and pillows on his bed, or sat up in an 
elbow chair which Mrs. Elmwood lent him. Everybody 
was very kind in those days of danger. Mrs. Elmwood let 
Rusha come on many an afternoon to help her sister, and 
always bringing some posset, or cordial, or dainty of some 


tJKDER THE STORM. 


181 


sort to tempt the iavalid. Goody Grace, Mrs. Blane, 
Game Oates, Nanny Pierce vied with each other in oilers 
of sitting up with him; Andrew, the young miller, came 
out of his way to bring a loaf of white bread, and to fetch 
the corn to be ground. Peter Pierce, Rushans lover, and 
more old comrades than Patience quite desired, offered 
their services in aiding Ben with the cattle and other 
necessary labors, but as the first excitement wore off, these 
volunteers became scantier, and when nothing was to be 
heard but “ just the same,’^ nothing to be seen but a weak, 
wan figure sitting wrapped by the fire, the interest waned, 
and the gully was almost as little frequented as before. 
Poor Ben^s schooling had, of course, to be given up, and 
it was well that he was nearly as old as Stead had been 
when they were first left to themselves. Happily his fif- 
teen months of study had not made him outgrow his filial 
obedience and devotion to the less instructed elder brother 
and sister, who had taken the place of the parents he had 
never known. Benoni, child of sorrow, he had been 
named, and perhaps his sickly babyhood and the mournful 
times around had tended to make him a quiet boy, with- 
out the tearing spirits that would have made him eager to 
join the village lads in their games. Indeed they laughed 
at him for his poverty and scholar^ip, and called him 
Jack Presbyter, Puritan, bookworm, and all the oppro- 
brious names they could think of, though no one ever less 
merited sectarian nicknames than he, as far as doctrine 
went. For, bred up on Dr. Eales^s books, and obliged to 
look out on the unsettled state of religious matters, he was 
as stanch a churchman as his brother, and fairly under- 
stood the foundations of his faith. Poor boy, the check to 
his studies disappointed him, and he spent every leisure 
moment over his Latin accidence or in reading. Next to 
the stories in the Bible, he loved the Maccabees, because 
of the likeness to the persecuted state of the Church; and 
he knew the Morte d^ Arthur almost by heart, and thought 


183 


UNDER THE STORM. 


ifc part of the history of England. Especially he loved the 
part that tells of the Holy Grail, the Sacred Cup that was 
guarded by the maimed King Pelles, and only revealed to 
the pure in heart and life. Stead had fully confided to 
him the secret of the cave, in case he should be the one 
left to deliver up the charge; and, in some strange way, 
the boy connected the treasure with the Saint Grail, and 
his brother with the maimed king. So he worked very 
hard, and Patience was capable of a good deal more than 
in her earlier days. Stead, helpless as he was, did not re- 
quire constant attendance, and knew too well how much 
was on his sister’s hands to trouble her when he could 
possibly help doing so. Thus they rubbed on ; though it 
was a terrible winter, and they often had to break in on 
the hoard which was to have built the house, sometimes 
for needments for the patient, sometimes to hire help when 
there was work beyond the strength of Patience and Ben, 
who indeed was too slender to do all that Stead had done. 

Ben did not shine in going to market. He was not big 
enough to hold his own against rude lads, and once came 
home crying with his donkey beaten and his eggs broken; 
moreover, he was apt to linger at stalls of books and 
broadsheets. As soon as Patience could venture to leave 
her brother, she was forced to go to market herself; and 
there was a staidness and sobriety about her demeanor that 
kept all impertinence at a distance. Poor Patience, she 
was not at all the laughing rustic beauty that Emlyn would 
have been at market. She would never have been hand- 
some, and though she was only a few years over twenty, 
she was beginning to look weather-beaten and care-worn, 
like the market-women about her, mothers of half a dozen 
children, 

Kow and then she saw Emlyn in all her young, plump 
beauty, but looking much quieter, and always coming to 
her for news of Steadfast. There were even tears in those 
bright eyes when she heard how much he suffered. The 


UOTEE THE STORM. 


183 


girl had evidently been greatly sobered by the results of 
her indiscretion, and the treachery into which it had led 
her. She probably cared more for Steadfast than for any 
one else except herself, and was shocked and grieved at his 
condition; and she had moreover discovered how her 
credulity had been played upon, and that she had had a 
narrow escape of being carried off by a buccaneer. 

Her master too had been called to order by the au- 
thorities, fined and threatened for permitting Eoyalist plots 
to be hatched in his house. He had been angered by the 
younger Ayliffe^s riotous doings, and his wife had been ter- 
rified. There had been a general reformation in which 
Emlyn had only escaped dismissal through her mistresses 
favor, pleading her orphanhood, her repentance, and her 
troth plight to the good young man who had been attacked 
by those dissolute fellows, though Mrs. Henshaw little 
knew how accountable was her favorite maid for the at- 
tack. 

So good and discreet was Emlyn, so affectionate her mes- 
sages to Stead, and so much brightness shone in his face 
on hearing them ; there was so much pleasure when she 
sent him an orange and he returned the snow-drops he had 
made Kusha gather, that Patience began to believe that 
>» Stead was right — that the shock was all the maiden needed 
to steady her — and that all would end as he hoped, when 
he should be able to resume his labors, and add to the sad- 
ly reduced hoard. 

It was not, however, till the March winds were over that 
Stead made any decided step toward recovery, and began 
to prefer the sun to the fire, and to move feebly and slowly 
about the farm-yard, visiting the animals, too few in num- 
ber, for his skilled attention had been missed. As summer 
came on he was able to do a little more, herd them with 
Growler^s help, and gradually to undertake what required 
no exertion of strength or speed, and there he stopped 
short — all the sunny months of summer could do no more 


184 


UNDER THE STORM. 


for him than make him fit to do such work as an old man 
of seventy might manage. 

He was persuaded, much against his will, to ride the 
white horse into Bristol at a foot-pace to consult once more 
the barber surgeon. That worthy, who was unusually 
sagacious for his time, and had had experience in the wars, 
told him that his recovery was a marvel, but that with the 
bullet where it was lodged, he could scarcely hope to enjoy 
much more health or comfort than at present. It could 
not be reached, but it might shift, when either it would 
prove fatal or become less troublesome; and' as a friend 
and honest man, he counseled the poor youth not to waste 
his money nor torture himself by having recourse to 
remedies or doctors who could do no real good. 

Stead thanked the barber, paid his crown, and slowly 
made his way to Mrs. Lightfoot^s, where he was to rest, 
dine, and see Emlyn. 

Kind Mrs. Lightfoot shed tears when she saw the sturdy,- 
ruddy youth grown so thin and pale; and as to Emlyn, she 
actually stood silent for three minutes. 

The two were left together in Mrs. Lightfoot^s kitchen, 
for Patience was at market, and their hostess had to mind 
her trade. 

Stead presently told Emlyn somewhat of the doctor^s 
opinion, and then, producing his portion of the tester, and 
with lips that trembled in spite of himseK, said that he had 
come to give Emlyn back her troth plight. 

“ Oh! Stead, Stead, she cried, bursting into tears, “ I 
thought you had forgiven me.^’ 

“ Forgiven you! Yea, truly, poor child, but — 

“ But only when you were sick! You cast me off now 
you are whole. 

“ I shall never be whole again, Emlyn. 

“ I don’t believe Master Willis. He is naught but a 
barber,” she exclaimed, passionately. “ I know there are 
physicians at the Bath who would cure you; or there’s the 


tJNDER THE STORM. 


185 


little Jew by the wharf; or the wise man on Burdham 
Down. But you always are so headstrong; when you have 
made up your mind no one can move you, and you don^t 
care whose heart you break, she sobbed. 

“ Hearken, little sweet, said Stead. “ ^Tis naught but 
that I wot that it would be ill for you to be bound to a 
poor frail man that will never be able to keep you as you 
should be kept. All I had put by is well nigh gone, and 
Tm not like to make it up again for many a year, even if 
I were as strong as ever. 

“ And you won^t go to the Jew, or the wise man, or the 
Bath?’^ 

I have not the money. 

But I will — I will save it for you!^^ cried Emlyn, who 
never had saved in her life. “ Or look here. Master 
Henshaw might give you a place in his office, and then 
there would be no need to dwell in that nasty, damp gul- 
ly, but we could be in the town. I'll ask my mistress to 
crave it from him." 

Stead could not but smile at her eagerness, but he shook 
his head. 

‘‘ It would be bootless, sweetheart, I can not carry 
weights. " 

No, but you can write." 

“ Very scurvily, and I can not cipher." 

For Stead, like every one else at Elmwood, kept his ac- 
counts by tally and in his head, and the mysteries of the 
nine Arabic figures were perfectly unknown to him. How- 
ever, Emlyn stuck to the hope, and he was so far inspired 
by it that he ceased to insist on giving up the pledges of 
the betrothal, and he lay on the settle in quiet enjoyment 
of Emlyn' s castle building, as she sat on a stool by his 
side, his hand on her shoulder, somewhat as it was wont to 
lie on Growler's head. And in spite of Master Willis's 
opinion, he rode home to the gully a new man, assuring 
Patience, on the donkey by his side, that there was more 


186 


tJNDER THE STORM. 


stanchness and kindness in little Emlyn than ever they 
had thought for. Even the ferryman who put them over 
the river declared that the doctor must have done Master 
Kenton a power of good, and Stead smiled and did not 
contradict him. 

Stead actually consulted Mr. Woodley how to learn 
ciphering beyond what Ben had acquired at school; and 
the minister lent him a treatise, over which he pored with 
a board and a burned stick for many an hour when he was 
out on the common with the cattle, or on the darkening 
evenings in the hut. Ben saw his way into those puzzles 
with no more difficulty than whetted his appetite, worked 
out sum after sum, and explained them to his brother, to 
the admiration of both his elders, till frowns of despair and 
long sighs from . Stead brought Patience to declare he was 
mazing himself, and insist on putting out the light. 

Stead had more time for his studies than he could wish, 
for the cold of winter soon affected the injured lungs; and, 
moreover, the being no longer able to move about rapidly 
caused the damp and cold of the ravine to produce rheu- 
matism and attendant ills, of which, in his former healthy, 
out-of-door life, he had been utterly ignorant, and he had 
to spend matiy an hour breathless, or racked with pain in 
the poor little hovel, sometimes trying to give his mind to 
the abstruse mysteries of multiplication of money, but 
generally in vain, and at others whiling away the time with 
his books, for though there were only seven of them, in- 
cluding Bible and Prayer-book, a very little reading could 
be the text of so much musing, that these few perfectly 
sufficed him. And then he was the nurse of any orphaned 
lamb or sick chicken that Patience was anxious about, 
and his care certainly saved many of those small lives. 

The spring, when he came forth again, found him on a 
lower level, less strong and needing a stick to aid his 
rheumatic knee. 

Not much was heard of Emlyn that spring. She did 


UKDER THE STORM. 


187 


not come to market with her mistress, and Patience was 
not inclined to go in quest of her, having a secret feeling 
that no news might be better for Stead than anything she 
was likely to hear; while as to any chance of their coming 
together, the Kentons had barely kept themselves through 
this winter, and Steadfast^s arithmetic was not making such 
progress as would give him a place at a merchant’s desk. 

Patience, however, was considerably startled when, one 
fine June day, she saw Mrs. Henshaw’s servant point her * 
out to two tall soldierly-looking men apparently father and 
son. 

“ Good-morrow to you, honest woman,” said the elder. 

‘‘ I am told it is you who have been at charges for many 
years for my brother’s daughter, Emlyn Gay thorn.” 

Patience assented. 

“ You have been right good to her, I hear; and I thank 
you for that same, and will bear what we may of the ex- 
pense,” he added, taking out a heavy bag from his pouch. 

He went on to explain that he and his son having gone 
abroad with his master had been serving with the Dutch, 
and had made some prize money. Learning on the peace 
that a small inheritance in Worcestershire had fallen to the 
family, they had returned, and found from Lady Blythe- 
dale that the brother’s daughter was supposed to be alive 
somewhere near Bristol. She had a right to half, and 
being honorable men, they had set out in search of her, 
bringing letters from the lady to Mr. Henshaw, whose 
house was still a center of inquiry for persons in the Cava- 
lier interest. There, of course, they had discovered Emlyn; 
and Master Gaythorn proceeded to say that it had been de- 
cided that the estate should not be broken up, but that his 
son should at once wed her and unite their claims. 

“ But, sir,” exclaimed Patience, she is troth plight to 
my brother. ” 

“ So she told me, but likewise that he is a broken man 
and sickly, and had offered to restore her pledge. ” 


188 


UNDER THE STORM. 


Patience could not deny it, though she felt hotly indig- 
nant. 

“ She charged me to give it back to you,^^ added the 
uncle; “ and to bid you tell the young man that we are 
beholden to you both; but that since the young folk are to 
be wedded to-morrow morn, and then to set forth for 
Worcestersliire, there is no time for leave-takings.^^ 

“ I do not wonder exclaimed Patience, “ that she has 
no face to see us. She that has been like a child or a sister 
to us, to leave us thus! Oh, my brother!'^ 

‘‘ Come, come, my good woman, best not make a pother. 
Poor Patience’s homely garb and hard-worked looks showed 
little of the yeoman class to which she belonged. YouVe 
done your duty by the maid and here’s the best I have to 
make it up.” 

Patience could not bring herself to take the bag, and he 
dropped it into her basket. “ I am sorry for the young 
man, your brother, but he knew better than to think to 
wed her as he is. And ’tis better for all there should be no 
women’s tears and foolishness over it.” 

“ Is she willing?” Patience could not but ask. 

“ Willing?” Both men laughed. “ Ay, what lass is 
not willing to take a fine, strapping husband, and be a 
landed dame? She gave ^ the token back of her own free 
will, eh, Humfrey; and what did she bid us say?” 

“ Her loving greetings to — What were their Puritani- 
cal names?” said the son contemptuously. “ Ay, and 
that she pitied the poor clown down there, but knew he 
would be glad of what was best for her.” 

“So farewell, good mistress,” said Master Gay thorn, and 
bfi they clanked together; and Patience, looking after 
them, could entirely believe that the handsome buff coat, 
fringed belt, high boots, and jauntily cocked hat would have 
driven out the thought of Stead in his best days. • And 
now that he was bent, crippled, weak, helplefes — “ and all 
through her, what hope was then,” thought Patience, “yet 


UNDER THE STORM. 


189 


if she had loved him, or there had been any truth in her, 
she could have wedded him now, and he would have been 
at ease through life! A little adder at our hearth! We are 
well quit of her, if he will but think so, but how shall I 
ever tell him?^^ 

She did not rush in with the tidings but came home 
slowly, drearily, so that Stead, who was sitting outside by 
the door, peeling rushes, gathered that something was amiss, 
and soon wormed it out of her, while her tears dropped 
fast for him. Still, as ever, he spoke little. He said her 
uncle was right in sparing tears and farewells, no doubt re- 
serving to himself the belief that it was against her will. 
And when Patience could not help declaring that the girl 
might have made him share her prosperity, he said, “I’m 
past looking after her lands. Her uncle would say so. 
^Tis his doing; I am glad of what is best for my darling as 
was. There’s an end of it. Patience — joy and grief. And 
I thank God that the child is safely cared for at last.” 

He tried to be as usual, but he was very ill that night. 

Patience found the money in her basket. She hated it 
and put it aside, and it was only some time after that she 
was gonstrained to use it, only then telling Stead whence it 
came, when he could endure to hear that the uncle had 
done his best to be just. 


CHAPTER XXHI. 

FULFILLMENT. 

My spirit beats her mortal bars, 

. As down dark tides the glory glides, 

And mingles with the stars. 

Tennyson. 

The year 1660 had come, and in the autumn, just as 
harvest was over, and the trees on the slopes were taking 
tints of red, yellow, and brown, an elderly clergyman, staff 
in hand, came slowly up the long lane leading to Elmwood, 


190 


UKDEK THE STORM. 


whence he had been carried, bound to his horse, seventeen 
years before. 

He had not suffered as much as some of his fellow priests. 
After a term of imprisonment in London, he had been 
transported to the plantations, namely, the American settle- 
ments, and had fallen in with friends, who took him to 
Virginia. This was chiefly colonized by people attached to 
the Church, who made him welcome, and he had ministered 
among them till the news arrived of the Eestoration of 
Charles II., and likewise that the lawful incumbents of 
benefices, who had been driven out, were reinstated by Act 
of Parliament. Mr. Holworth’s Virginian friends would 
gladly have kept him with them, but he felt that his duty 
was to his original fiock, and set out at once for England, 
landing at Bristol. There, however, he waited, like the 
courteous man he was, to hold communication with his 
people, till he had written to Mr. Elmwood, and made 
arrangements with him and Master AVoodley. 

They were grieved, but they were both men who had a 
great respect for law and parliament, so they made no 
difficulties. Mr. and Mrs. Woodley retired to the hall and 
left the parsonage vacant, after the minister had preached 
a farewell sermon in the church which made every one cry, 
for he was a good man and had made himself loved, and 
there were very few in the parish who could understand 
that difference between the true Church and a body without 
bishops. Mr. Holworth had in the meantime gone to 
Wells to see his own Bishop Piers, an old man of eighty-six, 
and it was from thence that he was now returning. He 
had not chosen to enter his parish till the intruded, minis- 
ter had resigned the charge, but he had been somewhat 
disappointed that none of his old flock, not even any Ken- 
tons, who had so much in charge, had come in to see him. 
He now arrived in this quiet way, thinking that it would 
not be delicate to the feelings of the squire and ex-minister 
to let the people get up any signs of joy or ring the bells. 


UND-ER THE storm- 


191 


if they were so inclined. Indeed, he was much afraid from 
what he had been able to learn that it would be only the 
rougher sort, who hated Puritan strictness and wanted 
sport and revelry, who would give him an eager welcome. 

So he first went quietly up to the church, which lie found 
full of benches and pews, with the Altar table in the mid- 
dle of the nave, and the squire^s comfortable cushioned seat 
at the east end. He knelt on the step for along time, then 
made a brief visit to his own house, where the garden was 
in beautiful order, but only a room or two were furnished 
with goods he. had bought from the AYoodleys, and these 
were in charge of a servant he had hired at Bristol. 

Thence the old man went out into the village, and his 
first halt was at the forge, where Blane, who had grown a 
great deal stouter and more grizzled, started at sight of his 
square cap. 

‘^Eh! but Tis the old minister! You have come in 
quietly, sir! T am afraid your reverence has but a sorry 
welcome. 

“I do not wonder you are grieved to part with Master 
Woodley. 

“ Well, sir, he be a good man and a powerful preacher, 
though no doubt your reverence has the best right, and, for 
one, I^m right glad to see an old face again. We would 
have rung the bells if we had known you were coming. 

“ That would have been hard on Master Woodley. I 
am only glad they are not melted. But how is it with all 
my old friends, Harry? Poor Sir George writ me that old 
clerk North died of grief of the rifling of the church; and 
that John Kenton had been killed by some stragglers. 
What became of his children?^ ^ 

That eldest lad went off to the Parliament army, and 
came swaggering here in his buff coat and boots like my 
Lord Protector himself. They say he has got a castle and 
lands in Ireland. Men must be scarce, say I, if they have 
had to make a gentleman of Jeph Kenton. 


192 


UNDER THE STORM. 


“And the i-est?^^ 

“ Well, sir, I^m afraid that poor lad. Stead, is in poor 
plight. You mind, he was always a still, steady, hard- 
working lad, and when his father was killed, and his house 
burned, and his brother ran away, the way he and his sister 
turned to was just wonderful. They went to live in an old 
hut in the gully down there, and they have made the place 
so tidy as it does your heart good to look at it. They bred 
up the young ones, and the younger girl is well married to 
one of the Squire^s folks, and every one respected them. 
But, as ill-luck would have it, some robbers from Bristol 
seem to have got scent of their savings. Some said that 
the Communion Cup was hid somewhere there. 

Mr. Hoi worth made an anxious sound of interrogation. 

“ Well, I did see the corporal, when the Parliament sol- 
diers were at Bristol, flog Stead shamefully to know where it 
was, and never get a word out of him, whether or no; and 
as he was a boy who would never tell a lie it stands to reason 
he knew where they were. 

“ But how did any one guess at his knowing?^' asked 
Mr. Holworth. 

“ His brother might have thought it likely, poor John 
being thick with your reverence,^^ said Blane. “ After 
that I thought, myself, that he ought to give them up to 
Master Woodley, if so be he had them; but I could never 
get a hint from him. The talk went that old Dr. Eales, 
you mind him, sir, before he died, came out and held a 
prelatist service, begging your pardon, sir, and that the 
things were used. Stead got into trouble with Squire about 
it.^^ 

“ But the robbers, how was that? You said he was 
hurt!^^ 

“ Sore hurt, sir; and he has never got the better of it, 
though Tis nigh upon four years ago. There was a slip 
of a wench he picked up as a child after the fight by 
Luck’s mill, and bred up; a fair lass she grew up to look 


UNDER THE STORM. 


193 


On, but a light-headed one. She went to service at Bristol, 
and poor Stead was troth plight to her, hoped to save and 
build up the house again, never knowing, not he, poor 
rogue, of her goings on with the sailors and all the roister- 
ing lads about her master’s house. ’Tis rny belief she put 
those rascals on the track, whether she meant it or not. 
Stead made what defense he could, stood up like a man 
against the odds, three to one, and got a shot in the side, 
so that he was like to die then. Better for him, mayhap, 
if he had at once, for it has been naught but a lingering 
ever since, never able to do a day’s work, though that 
wench. Patience, and the young lad, Ben, have fought it out 
wonderfully. That I will say.” 

Mr. Holworth had tears in his eyes, and trembled with 
emotion. 

“ The dear lad,” he said. “ Where is he? I must go 
and see him.” 

“ He bides in the gully, sir; he has been there ever 
since the farm-house was burned.” 

Ere long Mr. Holworth was on his way to the gully. 
What had been only a glade reaching from rock to stream, 
hidden in copsewood, was now an open space trodden by 
cattle, with the actual straw-yard more in the rear, but 
with a goat tethered on it and poultry running about. It 
was a sunny afternoon, and in a wooden chair placed so as 
to catch the warmth, with feet on a stool, sat, knitting, a 
figure that Mr. Holworth at first thought was that of an 
aged man; but as he emerged from the wood, and the big 
dog sprung up and barked, there was a looking up, an in- 
stant silencing of the dog, a rising with manifest effort, a 
dofiSng of the broad-brimmed hat, and the clergyman be- 
held what seemed to him];iis old Church-warden’s face, only 
in the deadly pallor of long-continued illness, and with the 
most intense, unspeakable look of happiness and welcome 
afterward irradiating it, a look that in after years alway* 
came before Mr. Holworth with the Nunc dimittis* 


IH UKDER THE STORM. 

Dropping the knitting, and holding by the chair, he 
stood trembling and quivering with gladness, while, sum- 
moned by the dog^s bark. Patience, pail in hand, ap- 
peared on one side, and Ben, tall and slight, with his flail, 
on the other. 

“ My dear lad,’^ was all Mr. Hoi worth could say, as he 
took the thin, blanched hand, put his arm round the 
shoulders, and reseated Stead, still speechless with joy. 
Patience, courtesying low, came up anxiously, showing the 
same honest face as of old, though work and anxiety had 
traced their lines on the sunburnt complexion, and Ben 
stood blushing, and showing his keener, more cultivated 
face, as the stranger turned to greet them so as to give 
Steadfast time to recover himself. 

“ Oh! sir, but we are glad to see your reverence,^' cried 
Patience. “Will you go in, or sit by Stead? Ben, fetch 
a chair. 

“ And is this fine, strapping fellow the sickly babe that 
you were never to rear. Patience?^ ^ 

“ God has been very good to us, sir,’^ said Patience. 

“ And this is best of all,^^ said Stead, recovering breath 
and speech. “ I thank Him that I have lived to see this 
day! It is all safe, sir.^^ 

“ And you, you faithful guardian, you have suffered for 
it.’" 

If it had not been for Blane’s partial revelations, Mr. 
Hoi worth never would have extracted the full story of how 
for that sacred trust Steadfast Kenton had endured threats 
and pain, and had foregone ease, prosperity, latterly hap- 
piness, and how finally it had cost him health, nay life it- 
self, for he was as surely dying of the buccaneer "s pistol 
shot as though he had been slain on the spot. 

Long illness, with all the thought and reflection it had 
brought, had so far changed and refined Stead that his 
awkward baiihfulnew and lack of words had passed from 


UNDER THE STORM. 


195 


him, and when he saw the clergyman overcome with emo- 
tion at the thought of all he had undergone he said: 

“ Never heed it, your reverence, it has come to be all 
joy to me to have had a little to bear for the Master! ^Tis 
hard on Patience and Ben, but they are very good to me; 
and being sick gives time for such comforts as God sends 
me. It is more than all I could have had here.^^ 

“lam sure of that, my dear boy. I was not grieving 
that I gave you the trust, but thinking what a blessed thing 
it is to have kept it thus faithfully.'^ 

Two Sundays later, the Feast was again meetly spread 
in Elmwood Church, the Altar restored to its place, and all 
as reverently arranged as it could yet be among the broken 
carved work. 

In some respects it was a mournful service, few there 
were who after the lapse of seventeen years even remem- 
bered the outlines of the old forms; and the younger peo- 
ple knew not when to kneel or stand. There were few who 
could read, and even for thuse who could there were only 
four Prayer-books in the church, the clergyman's, the 
clerk's, the Kentons', and one discovered by an old Elm- 
wood servant. The Squire's family came not; Goody Grace 
was dead, and though Pusha tried to instruct her husband 
and her little girl, she herself was much at a loss." 

To Mr. Holworth it was almost like that rededication of 
the Temple when the old men wept at the thought of the 
glory of the former house, but there were some on whom 
his eye rested with joy and peace. There were Blane and 
his wife, good and faithful though ignorant; there were the 
old miller and his son, who had come all that distance 
since there had as yet been no restoration in their church, 
and the goings on of Original-Sin Hopkins and his friends 
had thoroughly disgusted them, and made the old man 
yearn toward the church of his youth; and there was the 
little group of three, the toil-worn but sweet-faced sister, 
calm and restful, though watchful; the tall youth with 


IH 


UHDBIt THE STORM. 


thoughtful, earnest, awe-struck face, come for his first 
Communion, for which through those many years he had 
been taught to pray and long, and between them the 
wasted form and wan features lighted up with that wonder- 
ful radiance that had come on them with the sense that the 
trust was fulfilled, only it was brighter, calmer, higher than 
even at the greetings of the vicar. Did Steadfast see only 
the burnished gold of the Chalice and paten he had guard- 
ed for seventeen years at the cost of toil, danger, suffering, 
love and life itself? Did he not see and feel far beyond 
those outward visible signs in which others, who had not 
yet endured to the end, could only as yet put their trust by 
faith? 

Mr. Hoi worth, as he stood over him and saw the up- 
turned eye, was sure it was so. Ho doubt, indeed, Ben 
thought so too, but poor imaginative Ben had somehow 
fancied it would be with his brother as with the King who 
guarded that other sacred Cup, and when all was over, was 
quite disappointed that Stead needed his strong arm as 
much as ever, nay more, for on coming out into the air 
and sunshine a faintness and exhaustion came on, and they 
had to rest him in the porch before he could move. 

“ Oh, Stead, I thought it would have healed you,^’ the 
lad said. 

Stead slightly smiled. Healed? I shall soon be healed 
altogether, Ben,^^ he said. He had with great difficulty 
and very slowly walked to church, and Mr. Holworth 
wished him to come and rest at the Vicarage, but he was 
very anxious to get home, and after he had taken a little 
food, Andrew Luck offered to share with Ben and Kusha's 
husband the carrying him back between them on an elbow- 
chair. 

This pleased him, and he looked up to Andrew and said. 

You are in the same mind as long ago?’^ 

“ I never found any one else I could lay my mind to 
since my poor Kitty,^^ said Andrew. 


UNDEK THE STOliM. 


197 


“She will come to you — soon/^ said Sfcead. “She'll 
have a sore heart, but you will be good to her. " 

“ That I will. And little Bess and Kate shall come and 
tell her how they want her. " 

Stead smiled, and his lips moved in thankfulness. 

“ And if Ben would come with her," added Andrew, 
“ I'd be a brother to him." 

“ Parson wants Ben," said Stead. “ He says he can 
make a scholar of him, and may be a parson, and it will 
not be so lonesome in the Vicarage." 

“ And your farm?" 

“ Rusha and her man take that. They have saved 
enough to build the house. Yes, all is well. It is great 
peace and thankfulness. " 

Patience returned with the cushions she had borrowed 
and they brought Steadfast home, very much exhausted, 
and not speaking all the way. Perhaps the unusual mo- 
tion and exertion had made the bullet change its place, for 
he hardly uttered another word, and that night, as he had 
said to Ben, he was healed forever of all his ills. 

The funeral sermon that Mr. Holworth preached the 
next Sunday was on the text so dear to all the loyal hearts 
who remembered the White King's coronation text: 

“ Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a 
crown of life." 


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27 My Friend Jim. W. E. Norris. 25 

28 That Other Person. By Mrs. Al- 

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29 Called Back. By Hugh Conway 25 
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38 At Bay. By Mrs. Alexander.... 25 

39 Vice Versa By F. Anstey 25 

40 The Case of Reuben Malachi. By 

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41 The Ma}^or of Casterbridge. By 

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42 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 

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43 Dark Days. By Hugh Conway. 25 

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45 Living or Dead. Hugh Conway 25 

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49 I Have Lived and Loved. By 

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55 Once Again. Mrs. Forrester. ... 25 

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61 Hilary’s Folly. By Charlotte M. 

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68 Between Two Sins. By Charlotte 
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64 A Bachelor's Blunder. By W. 

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66 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 

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70 Othmar. By“Ouida.” 25 

72 Sunshine and Roses. By Char- 
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79 The Dark House. By George 

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84 The Professor. By Charlotte 

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88 Springhaven. R. D. Blackmore 25 

89 A Vagrant Wife. By Florence 

Warden 26 

90 Struck Dowm. By Haw’W Smart 25 

91 At the World’s Mercy. By Flor- 

ence Warden 25 

92 Claribel’s Love Story; or,Love’s 

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93 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- 

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95 Faith and Unfaith. By “The 
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97 Little 'I'u'penny. By S. Baring- 

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98 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

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99 From Gloom to Sunlight. By 

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100 Redeemed by Love. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 25 

101 A Woman’s War. By Charlotte 

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102 ’Twixt Smile and Tear. By 

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103 Lady Diana’s Pride. • By Char- 

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104 Sweet Cymbeline. By Charlotte 

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105 The Belle of Lynn. By Char- 

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106 Dawn. By H. Rider Haggard.. 26 

107 The Tinted Venus. By F. Anstey 25 

108 Addie’s Husband; or. Through 

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109 The Rabbi’s Spell. By Stuart 

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111 Phyllis. By “ The Dtichess ' . . 25 

112 Tinted Vapours. By J. Maclaren 

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113 A Haunted Life. By Charlotte 

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114 The Woodlanders. By Thomas 

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115 Wee Wifle. By Rosa Nouchette 

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116 Worth Winning. By Mrs. H. 

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117 Sabina Zembra. By William 

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134 In Durance Vile. By ” The 

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136 Loys, Lord Berresford. By 

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138 Airy Fairy Lilian. By ” The 

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140 Molly Bawn. “ The Duchess ” ^ 

142 Beauty’s Daughters. By “ The 

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152 Roburthe Conqueror. By Jules 

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154 Within an Inch of His Life. By 

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NUMERICAL LIST 


1 Yolande. By William Black. . 20 

2 Molly Bawn. “ The Duchess ” 20 

3 Mill on the Floss, The. By 


George Eliot 20 

4 Under Two Flags. By “ Ouida ” 20 

5 Admiral's .Ward, The. By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

6 Portia. By “ The Duchess ”... 20 

7 File No. 113. By Emile Gabo- 

riau 20 

8 East Lynne, Mrs. Henry Wood 20 

9 Wanda. Countess von Szalras. 

By “Ouida” 20 

10 Old Curiosity Shop, The. By 

Charles Dickens 20 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman. By 

Miss Mulock 20 

12 Other People’s Money. By 

Emile Gaboriau 20 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal. By Helen B. 

Mathers 10 

14 Airy Fairy Lilian. By “ The 

Duchess” '. 10 

15 Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bront6 20 

16 Phyllis. By “ The Duchess”.. 20 

17 Wooing O’t, The. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 

18 Shandon Bells. By Wm. Black 20 

19 Her Mother’s Sin. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

20 Within an Inch of His Life. 

By Emile Gaboriau 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These Times 

ByWm. Black 20 

22 David Copperfleld. By Charles 

Dickens, Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfleld. By Charles 

Dlckena. Vol.U ...30 


23 Princess of Thule, A. By Will- 


iam EBack 20 

24 Pickwick P^ers. By Charles 
Dickens, voi. I.. 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. IT 20 

25 Mrs.Geoffrey. “ The Duchess.” 

(Large type edition) 20 

950 Mrs. Geoffrey. “ The Duchess” 10 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau Vol. I 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Vol. II 20 

27 Vanity Fair. By William M, 

28 Ivanhoe. By Sir Waiter Scott. 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

30 Faith and Unfaith. By “The 

Duchess” 20 

31 Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

First half 20 

31 Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

Second half 20 

32 Land Leaguers, The. By An- 

thony Trollope 20 

33 Clique of Gold, The. By Emile 

Gaboriau ". 10 

34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot. First half 2fi 

34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot, Second half 20 

35 Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss 

M, E. Braddon 20 

36 Adam Bede. By George Eliot. 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles 
Dickens. Second half....... 2t 


2 


THE SEASIDE TJBRARY— Pocket EditiokT, 


88 Widow Lerouge, The. By Emile 
Gaboriau 

39 In Silk Attire By William Black 

40 Last Days of Pompeii, The. By 

Bulwer Lytton 

41 Oliver Twist. By Chas. Dickens 

42 Romola. By George Eliot 

43 Mystery of Orcival, The. By 

Emile Gaboriau 

44 Macleod of Dare. Wm. Black. 
4.5 Little Pilgrim, A. By Mrs. Oli- 

pbant 

46 Very Hard Cash. By Charles 

Reade 

47 Altiora Peto. By Laurence Oli- 

phant 

48 Thicker Than Water. By James 

Payn 

49 That Beautiful Wi*etch. By 

William Black 

50 Strange Adventures of a Phae- 

ton, The. By William Black. 

51 Dora Thorne. By Charlotte M. 

Braenie 

52 New Magdalen, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 

53 Story of Ida, The. By Francesca 

54 Broken Wedding-Ring, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeine, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 

55 Three Guardsmen, The. By 

Alexander Dumas 

56 Phantom Fortune. By Miss M. 

E. Braddou 

57 Shirley. By Charlotte Brontfi. 

58 By the Gate of the Sea. By D. 

Christie Murray ! . 

59 Vice Versa. By F. Anstey 

60 Last of the Mohicans, The. By 

J. Fenimore Cooper 

61 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. 

Rowson 

62 Executor, The. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 

68 Sjw, The. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 

64 Maiden Fair, A. Charles Gibbon 

65 Back to the Old Home. Bj’’ 

Mary Cecil Hay 

66 Romance of aPoor'VoungMan, 

The. By Octave Feuillet 

67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 

more. First half 

67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 

more. Second half 

68 Queen Amongst Women, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne” 

69 Madolin’s Lover. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 

.-70 White Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance. By William Black . . 
71 Struggle for’ Fame, A. By Mrs. 

J. M. Riddell 

78 Old Myddelton’s Money. By 
Mary Cecil Hay 


73 Redeemed by Love; or. Love’s 

Victory. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

74 Aurora Floyd. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

75 Twenty Years After. By Alex- 

ander Dumas 20 

76 Wife in Name Only; or, A Bro- 

ken Heart. By Charlotte M. 
Braeine, author of “Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

77 Tale of Two Cities, A. By 

Charles Dickens 20 

78 Madcap Violet. By Wm. Black 20 

79 Weddecl and Parted. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 

80 June. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

81 Daughter of Heth, A. By Will- 

•lorYl 

82 Sealed Lips. F. Du Boisgobey. 20 

83 Strange Story, A. By Sir E. 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

84 Hard Times. By Chas. Dickens 10 

85 Sea Queen, A. By W. Clark 

Russell 20 

86 Belinda. By Rhoda Broughton 20 

87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen. By Jules Verne 20 

88 Privateersman, The. By Capi- 

tain Marryat 20 

89 Red Eric, The. By R. M. Ballan- 

tyne 10 

90 Ernest Maltravers. By Sir E. Bul- 

wer Lytton 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 

raph}^ 20 

94 Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 

ens. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 

ens. Second half 20 

95 Fire Brigade, The. By R. M. 

BallaQC 3 'ne 10 

96 Erling the Bold. By R. M. Bal- 

lantyne 10 

97 All in a Garden Fair. By Wal- 

ter Besant 20 

98 Woman-Hater, A. By Charles 

Reade 20 

99 Barbara’s History. By Amelia 

B. Edwards 20 

100 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. 

By Jules Verne 20 

101 Second Thoughts. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

102 Moonstone, The. Wilkie Collins 20 

103 Rose Fleming. By Dora Russell 10 

104 Coral Pin, The. By F. Du Bois- 

gobey. 1st half 90 

104 Coral Pin, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. 8dhal£ 9t 


20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

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20 

20 

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10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

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20 

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10 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 


THE SEASIDE J.JBK A DY— Pocket Edition. 




105 Noble Wife, A. John Saunders 20 

106 Jlleak House. By Charles Dick- 

ens. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. By Charles Dick- 

ens. Second half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

108 Cricket on the Hearth, The. 

By Charles Dickens 10 

108 Doctor Marigold. Bj’’ Charles 

Dickens 10 

109 Little Loo. By W. Clark Russell 30 

110 Under the Red Flag. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 10 

111 Little School-master Mark, The. 

By J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 Waters of Marah, The. By John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. By M. 

G. Wightwick .. 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. By Mrs. C. 

J. Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. By T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

116 Moths. By “Ouida” 20 

117 Tale of the Shore and Ocean, A. 

By William H. G. Kingston.. 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

Eric Dering. “ The Duchess ” 10 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. 

By “The Duchess” 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. By Thomas Hughes. 20 

121 Maid of Athens. By Justin 

McCarthy 20 

122 lone Stewart. By Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

123 Sweet is True Love. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

124 Three Feathers. By Wm. Black 20 

125 Monarch of Mincing Lane, The. 

By William Black 20 

126 Kilmeny. By William Black.. 20 

127 Adrian Bright. By Mrs. Caddy 20 

128 Afternoon, and Ocner Sketches. 

By “Ouida” 10 


129 Rossmoyne. By “ The Duche.ss ” 10 

130 Last of the Barons, The, By Sir 

E. Bulwer Lytton. 1st half.. 20 

130 Last of the Barons, The. By Sir 

E. Bulwer Lytton. 2d half.. 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 


Dickens. First half 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half ,..20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

133 Peter the Whaler. By William 

H. G. Kingston 10 

134 Witching Hour, The, and Other 

Stories. Bv “The Duchess”. 10 

135 Great Heiress, A : A Fortune in 

Seven Cbecks. By R. E. Fran- 

cillon 10 

186 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 
Other Stories. By “ The 
Puchasjs’* ••• 10 


137 Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 


138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 

By Wm. Black 20 

139 Romantic Adventures of a Milk- 

maid, The. By Thomas Hardy 10 

140 Gloi-ious Fortime, A. By Wal- 

ter Besant 10 

141 She Loved Him! By Annie 

Thomas 10 

142 Jenifer. By Annie Thomas 20 

143 One False, Both Fair. By John 

B. Harwood 20 

144 Promises of Marriage. By Emile 

Gaboriau 10 

145 “ Storm-Beaten :” God and The 

Man. By Robert Buchanan. 20 

146 Love Finds the Way, and Other 

Stories. By Walter Besant 
and James Rice 10 

147 Rachel Ray. By Anthony Troll- 

ope 20 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “Dora Thorne” 10 

149 Captain’s Daughter, The. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

150 For Himself Alone. By T. W. 

Speight 10 

151 Ducie Diamonds, The. By C. 

Blatherwick 10 

152 Uncommercial Traveler, The. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

153 Golden Calf, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

154 Annan Water. By Robert Buch- 

anan 20 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret. By Jean 

Middlemas 20 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” By Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

1.57 Milly’sHero. By F. W. Robinson 20 
158 Starling, The. By Norman 

Macleod. D.D 10 

'159 Captain Norton’s Diary, and 
A Moment of Madness. By 
Florence Marryat 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. By Sarah 

Tvtler 10 

161 Lady of Lyons, The. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 
Lord Lytton 10 

162 Eugene Aram. By Sir E, Bulwer 

Lytton 20 

163 Winifred Power. By Joyce Dar- 

rell 20 

164 Leila; or, 'The Siege of Grenada, 

By Bulwer Lytton 10 

165 History of Henry Esmond, The. 

By William M. Thackeray. . . 20 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites. 

By “The Duchess” 10 

167 Heart and Science. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

168 No Thorougiifare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 Haunte<i Man, The. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

170 A Great Treason. By Mary 

Hoppus. First half 20 


i 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


170 A Gi’eat Treason. By Mary 

rioppus. Sei'Ond half 20 

171 Fortune’s Wheel. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

172 ‘‘ Golden Girls.” By Alan Muir 20 

173 Foreigners, The. By Eleanor C. 

Price 20. 

174 Under a Ban. By Mrs. Lodgre. 20 

175 Love’s Random Shot. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

176 An April Day. By Philippa Prit- 

tie Jeplison 10 

177 Salem Chapel. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 

of a Life in the Highlands. 

By Queen Victoria 10 

179 Little Make-Believe. By B. L. 

Farjeon 10 

J80 Round the Galley Fire. By W. 
Clark Russell 10 

181 New Abelard, The. By Robert 

Buchanan 10 

182 Millionaire, The 20 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other Sto- 

ries. By Florence Marryat.. 10 

184 Thirlby Hall. By W. E. Norris 2G 

185 Dita. By Lady Margaret Ma- 

jendie 10 

186 Canon’s Ward, The. By James 

Payn 20 

187 Midnight Sun, The. ByFredrika 

Bremer 10 

188 Idonea. By Anne Beale 20 


CtUUt^i • AU 

190 Romance of a Black Veil. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
ot “Dora Thorne” 10 

191 Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 

Lever 20 

192 At the World’s Mercy. By F. 

Warden 10 

193 Rosary Folk, The, By G. Man- 

ville Fenn 10 

194 “So Near, and Yet So Far!” 

By Alison 10 

195 “Way of the World, The.” By 

David Christie Murray 20 

196 Hidden Perils. Mary Cecil Hay 20 

197 For Her Dear Sake. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

198 Husband’s Story, A 10 

199 Fisher Village, The. By Anne 

Beale 10 

200 An Old Man’s Love. By Anthony 

Trollope 10 

201 Monastery, The, By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

202 Abbot, The. Sequel to “The 

Monastery.” By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

208 John Bull and His Island. By 
MaxO’Rell 10 

204 Vixen. By Miss M E, Braddon 20 

205 Minister’s Wife, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 30 


806 Picture, The, and Jack of All 
Trades. By Charles Reade. . . 10 


Pretty Miss Neville. By B. M. 

Croker 20 

Ghost of Charlotte Cray, The, 
and Other Stories. By Flor- 


dl L-O Xtxcl, 1 1 cL i/ • • • • • •••••••• • Iv 

John Holdsworth, Chief Mate. 

By W. Clark Russell 10 

Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events. By Chas. Reade 10 
Octoroon, The. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 10 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish 
Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 

First half — 20 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish 
Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 

Second half 20 

Terrible Temptation, A. By 

Chas. Reade 20 

Put Yourself in His Place. By 
Charles Reade 20 


Not Like Otlier Girls. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey. , 

Foul Play, By Charles Reade. 
Man She Cai-ed For, The. By 

F. W. Robinson 

Agnes Sorel. By G. P. R. James 
Lady Clare ; or. The Master of 
the Forges From the French 

of Georges Ohnet 

Which Loved Him Best? By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye. By Helen 

B. Mathers 

Sun-Maid, The. By Miss Grant 
Sailor’s Sweetheart, A. By W, 

Clark Russell 

Arundel Motto, The. By Maiy 

Cecil Hay 

Giant’s Robe, The. By F. Anstey 

Friendship. By“Ouida” 

Nancy. By Rhoda Broughton. 
Princess Nitpraxine. “Ouida” 
Maid, Wife, or Widow? By 

Mrs. Alexander 

Dorothy Forster. By Walter 

Besant 

Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy. 

By Charles Reade 

Love and Money; or, A Peril- 
ous Secret. By Chas. Reade. 

“ I Say No;” or. The Love-Let- 
ter Answered. By Wilkie Col- 
lins 

Barbara; or, Splendid Misery. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 

“ It is Never Too Late to Mend.” 

By Charles Reade 

Which Shall It Be? By Mrs. 

Alexander. .* 

Repented at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

Pascarel. By “Ouida” 

Signa. By “Ouida” 

Called Back. By Hugh Conway 
Baby’s Grandmother, The. By 
L. B. Walford 10 


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242 Two Orphans, The. By D’Eu- 

nery _ 

248 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 
Charles Lever. First half... 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 

Charles Lever. Second half. 

244 Great Mistake, A. By the author 

of “ Cherry ” 

245 Miss Tommy. By Miss Mulock 

246 Fatal Dower, A. By the Author 

of “ His Wedded Wife ” .... 

247 Armourer’s Prentices, The. By 

Charlotte M. Yonge 

248 House on the Marsh, The. By 

F. Warden 

249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter.” 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “ Dora Thorne ” 

250 Sunshine and Roses ; or, Diana’s 

Discipline. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ” 

251 Daughter of the Stars, The, and 

Other Tales. By Hugh Con- 
way. author of “ Called 
Back ” 

252 Sinless Secret, A. By “ Rita ” 

253 Amazon, The. By Carl Vosrnaer 

254 Wife’s Secret, The, and Fair but 

False. Charlotte M. Brae aie, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 

255 Mystery, The. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 

ByL. B. Walford 

257 Beyond Recall. By Adeline Ser- 

geant 

258 Cousins. By L. B. Walford .... 

259 Bride of Monte- Cristo, The. A 

Sequel to “ The Count of 
Monte-Cristo.” By Alexan- 
der Dumas 

260 Proper Pride. By B. M. Croker 

261 Fair Maid, A. By F. W. Robin- 

son 

262 Count of Mbnte-Cristo, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part I 

262 Count of Monte-Cristo. The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part II 

263 An Ishmaelite. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 

264 Pi6douche, a French Detective. 

By For tun 6 Du Boisgobey... 

265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 

Affairs and Other Advent- 
ures. By William Black 

266 Water-Babies, The. A Fairy 

Tale for a Land-Baby. By the 
Rev. Charles Kingsley 

267 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 

Con.Spiracy. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The Mi- 

ser’s Treasure. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller 

269 Lancaster's Choice. By Mrs. 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 

270 Wandering Jew, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part I 


270 Wandering Jew, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part II 20 

271 Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Parti 20 

271 Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part II 20 

272 Little Savage, The. By Captain 

Marryat 10 

273 Love and Mirage; or. The Wait- 

ing on an Island. By M. 
Betham-Ed wards.. 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 

Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 
and. Letters 10 

275 Three Brides, The. By Char- 

lotte M. Yonge 10 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses. 

By Florence Marryat (Mrs. 
Francis Lean) 10 


277 Surgeon’s Daughters, The, by 

Mrs. Henry Wood. A Man of 
His Word, by W. E. Norris. . . 10 

278 For Life and Love. By Alison. 10 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 

an’s Love. By Mrs. Sumner 


Hayden 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 

ciety. By Mrs. Forrester 10 

281 Squire’s Legacy, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

282 Donal Grant. By George Mac- 

Donald 20 

283 Sin of a Lifetime, The. By 

Charlotte M. Bi'aeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

284 Doris. By “ The Duchess ” . . . . 10 

285 Gambler’s Wife, The 20 

286 Deldee ; or, The Iron Hand. By 

F. Warden 20 

287 At War With Herself. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

923 At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 
edition) 20 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight; or 

From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne” 10 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 
From Out the Gloom. B.y 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Lar^e 
type edition) 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 

True Light. By a “Brutal 
Saxon ” 10 

290 Nora’s Love Test. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

291 Love’s Warfare. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

292 Golden Heart, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

293 Shadow' of a Sin. The. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Editioit. 


948 Shadow of a Sin, H’he. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 

edition) 20 

!e94 Hilda; or, Tlie False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

928 Hilda; or. The l''alse Vow. By 
Chai lotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type edition) 20 

395 Woman’s War, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

952 Woman’s War, A. By Charlotte 

]\I. Braeme. (Large type edi- 
tion) ... 20 

296 Rose in Thorns, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 

riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne” 10 

953 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 

riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme. (Large type edition) 20 

298 Mitchelhurst Place. By Marga- 

ret Veley . . . ! 10 

299 Fatal Lilies, The. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

301 Dark Days. By Hugh Conway 10 

302 Blatchford Bequest, The. By 

Hugh Conway, author of 
“Called Back” 10 

303 Ingledew House. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 


inoiue lu 

805 Dead Heart, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

806 Golden Dawn, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

307 Two Kisses. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

309 Pathfinder, The. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

310 Prairie, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper. 20 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. 

By R. H. Dana, Jr 20 

812 Week in Killarney, A, By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

813 Lover’s Creed, The. By Mrs. 

Cashel-Hoey 20 

814 Peril. By Jessie Fothergill ... 20 
816 Mistletoe Bough, The, Edited 

by Miss M. E. Braddon. ...... 20 


20 


20 

10 


316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

.Rodney’s Secret. By Mrs, 
Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 

317 Bj' Mead and Stream. By Chas. 

Gibbon 

318 Pioneers, The ; or. The Sources 

of the Susquehanna. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 

319*Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 
Fables. By R. E. Francillon. 

320 Bit of Human Nature, A. By 

Da vid Christie Murray 10 

321 Prodigals, The: And Their In- 

heritance. By Mrs. Oliphant. 10 

322 Woman’s Love-Story, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

323 Willful Maid, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

324 In Luck at Last. By Walter 

Besant 10 

325 Portent, The. By George Mac- 

donald 10 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women. By 
George Macdonald 10 

327 Raymond’s Atonement. (From 

the German of E. Werner.) 

By Christina Tyrrell 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

(Translated from the French 
of Fortune Du Boisgobey.) 
First half 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

(Translated from the French 
of Fortune Du Boisgobey.) 
Second half 29 

329 Polish Jew, The. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) By Erckmann- 
Chatrian 10 

330 May Blossom : or, Betwe<^n Two 

Loves. By Margaret Lee .... 

331 Gerald. By Eleanor C. Price., 

332 Judith Wynne. By author of 

“Lady Lovelace” 

333 Frank Fairlegh: or. Scenes 

From the Life of a Private 
Pupil. By Frank E Smedley 20 

334 Marriage of Convenience, A. 

By Harriett Jay 10 

335 White Witch, The. A Novel... 20 

336 Philistia. By Cecil Power 20 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 

Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Fendie. By 
Mrs. Oliphant 20 

338 Family Difficulty, The. By Sa- 

rah Doiidney 10 

339 Mrs, Vereker’s Courier Maid. 

By Mrs. Alexander 10 

340 Under Which King? By Comp- 

ton Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

By Laura Jean Libbey 20 

342 Baby, The, By “ The Duchess ” 19 


20 

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143 Talk of the Town, The. By 

James Payn go 

844 “ WeariiiK of the Green, The.” 

By Basil 20 

345 Madam. By Mrs. Olipbant..,. 20 
34fi Tumbledown Farm. By Alan 

Muir 10 

347 As Avon Flows. By Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance. By Hawley Smart 20 

349 Two Admirals, The. A Tale of 

the Sea. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. By 

George Meredith 10 

351 House on the Moor, The. By 

Mrs. Oliphaut 20 

852 At Any Cost. By Edw. Garrett 10 

353 Black Dwarf, The. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 


854 Lottery of Life, The. A Story 
of New' York Twenty Years 


Ago. By John Brougham .. 20 

355 That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Norris 10 

356 Good Hater, A. By Frederick 

Boyle 20 

357 John. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

358 Within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 

wick Harwood 20 

359 Water-Witch. The. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

360 Ropes of Sand. By R. E. Francil- 

lon 20 

361 Red Rover, The. A Tale of the 

Sea, By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

362 Bride of Lammermoor, The. 

By Sir Walter Scott 20 

363 Surgeon’s Daughter, The. By 

Sir Walter Scott. 10 

364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 

ter Scott 10 

365 George Christy; or. The Fort- 

unes of a Minstrel. By Tony 
Pastor '. 20 

366 Mysterious Hunter, The; or. 

The Man of Death. B3' Capt. 

L. C. Carleton 20 

867 Tie and Trick. By Hawley Smart 20 

368 Southern Star, The ; or. The Dia- 

mond Land. By Jules Verne 20 

369 MissBretherton. By Mrs. Hum- 

phry Ward 10 

370 Lucy Crofton. By Mrs. Oliphant 10 

371 Margaret Maitland. By BIrs. 

Oliphant 20 

372 Phyllis’ Probation. By the au- 

thor of ” His Wedded Wife ”. 10 

873 Wing-and-Wing. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

874 Dead Man’s Secret, The ; or. The 

Adventures of a Bledical Stu- 
dent. By Dr. Jupiter Paeon. . 20 

875 Ride to Kiiiva, A. By Captain 

Fred Burnaby, of the Royal 


Horse Guards 80 


376 Crime of Christmas Day, Th«, 

By the author of ” My Ducats 
and Bly Daughter ” 

377 Blagdaien Hepbui u : A Story cf 

the Scottish Reformation. By 
Mrs. Oliphant 80 

378 Homeward Bound ; or. The 

Chase. By J. F. Cooper 88 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

” Homewaid Bound.”) ByJ. 
Fenimore Cooper 80 

380 Wyandotte; or. The Hutted 

Knoll. ByJ. Fenimore Cooper 80 

381 Red Cardinal, The. By Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters; or. Sketches of 

a Highly Original Family. 

By Elsa D'Esterre-Keeling. , 1C 

383 Introduced to Society. By Ham- 

ilton Aid6 10 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 

Blinor. By Captain Fred Bur- 
naby 20 

385 Headsman, The; or, The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 

Comtesse.” Octave Feulllet. 10 

387 Seciet of the Cliffs, The. B3' 

Charlotte French 20 

388 Addie’s Husband ; or. Through 

Clouds to Sunshine. By the 
author of “ Love or Lands?”. 10 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. By Bertha 

Thomas 10 

390 Blildred Trevanion. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

391 Heart of Mid-Lothian, The. By 

Sir Walter Scott. 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak. By Sir 

Walter Scott.. 20 

393 Pirate, The. By Sir Walter Scott ^ 

394 Bi'avo, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

395 Archipelago on Fire, The. By 

Jules Verne 10 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement. Ey 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln ; or, The Leaguer 

of Boston, Bj" J, Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 

By Robert Buchanan 10 

399 Miss Browm. By Vernon Lee,. 20 

400 Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish, The. 

By J Fenimore Cooper 20 

401 Waverle.y. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

402 Lilliesleaf; or. Passages in the 

Life of Mrs. Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside. By Mra 
Oliphant 20 

403 An English Squire. By C. R. 

Coleridge 20 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 
Stories, By “ The Duchess ” 10 

405 i\Iy Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

406 Merchant’s Clerk, The. By Sam- 
uel Warren....... 


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THE SEASIDE LIBEARY— Pocket Edition. 


407 Tylney Hall. By Thomas Hood 

408 Lester’s Secret. By Mary Cecil 


409 Roy’s Wife. By G. J. Whyte- 

Melville 

410 Old Lady Mary. By Mrs. Oli- 

phant 

411 Bitter Atonement, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thome ” 

412 Some One Else. By B. M. Croker 

413 Afloat and Ashore. By J. Fen- 

imore Cooper 

414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

“ Afloat and Ashore.”) By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 

415 Ways of the Hour, The. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 

416 Jack Tier; or. The Florida Reef. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 

417 Fair Maid of Perth, The; or, 

St. Valentine’s Day. By Sir 
Walter Scott 

418 St. Ronan’s Well. By Sir Walter 

Scott 

419 Chainbearer, The; or. The Lit- 

tleoage Mautiscripts. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper '. 

420 Satanstoe; or. The Littlepage 

Manuscripts. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 

421 Redskins, The; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts. 
By J. Fenimoi-e Cooper 

422 Precaution. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 

423 Sea Lions, The; or. The Lost 

Sealers. By J. F. Cooper. . . 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or. The 

Voyage to Cathay. By J. Fen- 
imore Cooper 

425 Oak-Openings, The; or, The 

Bee-Hunter. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 

426 Venus’s Doves. By Ida Ash- 

worth Taylor 

427 Remarkable History of Sir 

Thomas Upmore, Bart., M.P., 
The. Formerly known as 
“ Tommy Upmore.” By R. 
D. Blackmore 

428 Z6ro: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 

By Mrs. Campbell-Praed 

429 Boulderstone; or. New Men and 

Old Populations. By W. Sime 

430 Bitter Reckoning. A. By the au- 

thor of “ By Crooked Paths ” 

431 Monikins, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 

432 Witch’s Head, The. By H. 

Rider Haggard 

433 My Sister Kate. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne ” 

434 Wyllard’s Weird. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 

485 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 
Castle. By George Taylor. . . 


486 Stella. By Fanny Lewald 9i 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 
C:huzzlewit. By Charles Dick- 


ens. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 

438 Found Out. By Helen B. 

Mathers 10 

439 Great Expectations. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

440 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

441 Sea Change, A. By Flora L. 

Shaw 20 

442 Ranthorpe. By George Henry 

Lewes 20 

443 Bachelor of the Albany, The. .. 10 

444 Heart of Jane Warner, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

445 Shadow of a Crime, The. By 

Hall Caine 20 

446 Dame Durden, By “Rita”... 20 

447 American Notes. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

448 Pictures From Italy, and The 

Mudfog Papers, &c. By Chas. 
Dickens 20 

449 Peeress and Player. By Flor- 

ence MaiT.vat 20 

450 Godfrey Helstoue. By Georgi- 

ana M. Craik 20 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 

the Bar. G. J. Whyte-Melville 20 

452 In the West Couctrie. By May 

Crommelin 20 

453 Lottery Ticket, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobej' 20 

454 Mystery of Edwin Drood, The. 

By Chas. Dickens 20 

455 Lazarus in London. By F. W. 

Robinson 20 

456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 

of Every-day Life and Every- 
day People. By Charles Dick- 
ens 20 


457 Russians at the Gates of Herat, 

The. By Charles Marvin. ... 10 

458 Week of Passion, A; or. The 

Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 


ton the Younger. By Edward 
Jenkins 20 

459 Woman’s Temptation, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type edit ion) 20 

951 Woman’s Temptation, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of ” Dora TJiorne ” 10 

460 Under a Shadow. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

461 His Wedded Wife. By author 

of “ A Fatal Dower ” 20 

462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 

land. By Lewis Carroll. With 
forty -two illustrations by 
John Tenniel 90 

463 Redgauntlet. By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


464 Newcomes, The. By William 
Makepeace Thackeray. Part 
1 20 

464 Newcomes, The. By William 

Makepeace Thackeray. Part 
II 20 

465 Earl'S Atonement, The. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

466 Between Two Loves. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

467 Struggle for a Ring, A. By Char- 

lotte M. , Braeme, author of 
” Dora Thorne ” 20 

468 Fortunes, Good and Bad, of a 

Sewing-Girl, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Stanley 16 

469 Lady Darner's Secret; or, A 

Guiding Star. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

470 Evelim’s Folly. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

471 Thrown on the World. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
” Dora Thorne ” 20 

472 Wise Women of Inverness, 

The. By Wm. Black 10 

473 Lost Son, A. By Mary Linskill. 10 

474 Serapis. By George Ebers 20 

475 Prima Donna’s Husband, The. 20 

By F. Du Boisgobe}' 

476 Between Two Sins; or. Married 

in Haste. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

477 Affinities. A Romance of To- 

day. By Mrs. Campbell-Praed 10 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 

ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
Part 1 20 

478 Diavola: or. Nobody’s Daugh- 

ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
Part II 20 

479 Louisa. By Katharine S. Mac- 

quoid 20 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

481 House That Jack Built, The. 

By Alison 10 

482 Vagrant Wife, A. By F. Warden 20 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 

the author of “A Golden Bar ”10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 

Other Tales. Mrs. Forrester. 10 
48.') Tinted Vapours. By J. Maclaren 

Cobban 10 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart. By “ The 

Duchess ” 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by- 

Mi.ss M. E, Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

489 Rupert Godwin. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

400 Second Life, A. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 00 


491 Societ}' in London. By a For- 
eign Resident 16 

493 Mignon ; or. Booties’ Baby. By 
J. S. Winter. Illustrated 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. By 

Lucas Malet 20 

494 Maiden All Forlorn, A, and Bar- 

bara. By “ The Duchess ”... 10 

495 Mount Royal. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

497 Lady’s Mile, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

498 Only a Clod. By MLss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

499 Cloven Foot, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

500 Adrian Vidal. By W. E. Norris 20 

501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. By F. Mabel 

Robinson 20 

502 Carriston’s Gift. By Hugh 

Conway, author of “Called 
Back” 10 

503 Tinted Venus, The. By F. Anstey 10 

504 Curly: An Actor’s Story. Bv 

John Coleman. Illustrated. 10 

505 Society of London, The. By 

Count Paul Vasili 10 

506 Lady Lovelace. By the author 

of “Judith Wynne” 00 

507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 

and Other Stories. By Sir 
Walter Scott 10 

508 Unholy Wish, The. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 10 

509 Nell Haffenden. By Tighe Hop- 
kins ; 20 

510 Mad Love, A. By the author of 

“ Lover and Lord ” 10 

511 Strange World, A. By Jliss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

512 Waters of Hercules, The 20 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 

Other Tales. By Mrs. Henr^’ 
Wood 10 

514 Mystery of Jessy Page, The, 

and Other Tales. By Mrs. 
Henry Wood 10 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

516 Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

517 Passive Crimj, A, and Other 
Stories. Bj^“ The Duchess ” 10 

518 Hidden Sin, 'The. A Novel 20 

519 James Gordon’s Wife, A Novel 26 

520 She's All the World to Me, By 

Hall Caine 10 

521 Entangled, By E. Fairfax 

Byrriie 2Q 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; o^ Thej 

Steel Gauntlets. By F. Du 
Boisgobey. St 

523 Consequences of a Duel, The. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 01 


10 


THE SEASIDE LTBEAEY— Pocket EdItiok. 


624 Strangei's and Pilgrims. By 


Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

525 Paul Vargas, and Otlier Stories. 

By Hugh Conway, author of 
“Called Back” 10 

526 Madame De Presnel. • By E. 

Frances Poynter 20 

527 Days of My Life. The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

538 At His Gates. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

529 Doctor's Wife, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

530 Pair of Blue Eyes, A. By Thom- 

as JTardy 20 


531 Prime Minister, The. By An- 
thony Trollope. First Half .. 20 
531 Prime Minister. The. By An- 


thony Trollope. Second Half 20 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

533 Hazel Kirke. By Marie Walsh 20 

534 Jack. By Alphonse Daudet 20 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or. Domi- 

neering. By Charlotte M. 
Yonge 10 

536 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 

drew Lang 10 

537 Piccadilly. Laurence Oliphant 10 

538 Fair Country Maid, A. By E. 

Fairfax Byrrne 20 

539 Silvermead. By Jean Middle- 

mas 20 

540 At a High Price. By E. Werner 20 

541 “As it Fell Upon a Day,’’ by 

“The Duchess,’’ and Uncle 
Jack, by Walter Besant 10 

542 Fenton’s Quest. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

543 Family Affair, A. By Hugh 

Conway, author of ’“ Called 
Back ’’ .. 20 

544 Cut by the County: or, Grace 

Darnel. By Miss M. E. Brad- 
don 10 

545 Vida's Story. By author of 

“Guilty Without Crime’’ 10 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime 10 

547 Coquette’s Conquest, A. By 

Basil .....20 

548 Fatal Marriage, A, and The 

Shadow in the Corner. By 
Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

549 Dudley Carleou ; or. The Broth- 

er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey. ByMissM. E. 

Braddon .. 10 

560 Sti uckDown. By Hawley Smart 10 
551 Barbai a HeaHhrcote's Trial. By 

Ro.sa Nouchette Carey 20 

.552 Hostages to Fortune. By Miss 
M. E. Braddon 20 

553 Birds of Prey. By Miss M. E, 

Braddon 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (A Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey.’’) By 
Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

655 Cara Roma. By Miss Grant 20 

556 Praice of Darkness, A. By F. 
Warden . . 20 


557 To the Bitter End. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

558 Poverty Corner. By G. Manville 

Fenn 20 

559 Taken at the Flood. By MisS 

M. E. Braddon 20 

560 Asphodel. By Miss ]M. E. Brad- 

don 20 

561 Just As I Am; or, A Living Lie. 

By Miss M. E Braddon 20 

562 Lewis Arundel; or. The Rail- 

road of Life. By Frank E. 
Smedley 20 

563 Two Sides- of the Shield, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

564 At Bay. By Mrs. Alexander. . . 10 

565 No Medium. By Annie Thomas 10 

566 Royal Highlanders, The; or, 

The Black Watch in Egypt. 

By James Grant 20 

567 Dead Men's Shoes. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

568 Perpetual Curate, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

569 Harry Muir. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

570 John Mai chmoht’s Legacy. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

571 Paul Carew's Story. By Alice 

Corny ns Carr 10 

572 Healey. By Jessie Fothergill. 2Q 

573 Love’s Harvest. B. L. Farjeon 20 

574 Nabob, Tlie: A Story of Paris- 

ian Life and Manners. By Al- 


phonse Daudet 2® 

575 Finger of Fate, The. By Cap- 

tain Mayne Reid 20 

576 Her Mai'tyrdom. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ’’ 20 

577 In Peril and Privation, By 

James Payn 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Part I. 10 
578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Part II 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf, By Jules 

, Verne. (Illustrated.) Part III 10 

579 Flower of Doom, The, and 

Other Stories. By M, Betham- 
Edwards 10 

580 Red Route, The. By William 

Si me 20 

581 Betroilied, The. (I Promessi 

Sposi,) Alessandro Manzoni. 20 

582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. By 

Mrs. J. H. Needell 20 

583 Victory Deane. By Cecil Griffith 20 

584 Mixed Motives 10 

585 Drawn^Game. A. By Basil 20 

586 “ For Percival.’’ By Margaret 

Veley 20 

587 Parsoti o’ Dumford, The. By 

G. Manville Fenn 20 

588 Cherry. By the author of “A 

Great Mistake’’ 10 

589 Luck of the Darrells, The. By 

James Payn.. 20 

590 Courting of Mary Smith, The. 

By F. W, Robinson 20 


THE SEASIDE LTBKARY— Pocket Edition. 


11 


601 Queen of Hearts, The. By Wil- 
kie Collins 20 

502 Strange Voyage, A. By W. 

Clark Russell . . . 20 

593 Berna Boyle. By Mrs. J. H. 

Riddell 20 

694 Doctor Jacob. By Miss Betham- 

Ed wards 20 

'595 North Country Maid, A. By 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 20 

596 My Ducats and My Daughter. 

By the author of “The Crime 
of Christmas Day” 20 

597 Haco the Dreamer. By William 

Sime 10 

598 Corinna. By “Rita” 10 

599 Lancelot W’^ard, M.P. By George 

Temple 10 

600 Houp-La. By John Strange 

Winter. (Illustrated) 10 

601 Slings and Arrows, and other 

Stories. By Hugh Conway, 
author of ‘‘Called Back”... 10 

602 Camiola: A Girl With a Fortune. 

By Justin McCarthy 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 

Half 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 

ond Half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modern 

Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 
Half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modern 

Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 
ond Half 20 

605 Ombra. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

606 Mrs. Hollyer. By Georgiana M. 

Craik 20 

607 Self-Doomed. By B. L. Farjeon 10 

608 For Lilias. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey 20 


609 Dark House, The-: A Knot Un- 


raveled. By G. Manville Fenn 10 

610 Story of Dorothy Grape, The, 

and Other Tales.' By Mrs. 
Henry Wood 10 

611 Babylon. By Cecil Power 20 

612 My Wife's Niece. By the author 

of “ Doctor Edith Romney ”. 20 
513 Ghost’s Touch, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

il4 No. 99. By Arthur Griffiths... 10 

615 Mary Anerley. By R. D. Black- 

more 20 

616 Sacred Nugget, The. By B. L. 

Farieon .... 20 

617 Like Dian’s Kiss. By “ Rita ”. 20 

618 Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 

mas. 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

619 Joy; or. The Light 6f Cold- 

Home Ford. By May Crom- 
melin 20 

620 Between the Heather and the 

Northern Sea. By M. Linskill 20 

621 Warden, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 10 

622 Harry Heathcoteof Gangoil. By 

AQuioiij TroUoptt... li 


623 My Lady’s Money. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

624 Primus in ludis. By M. J. Col- 

quhoun 10 

625 Erema; or. My Father’s Sin. 

By R. D. Blackmore 20 

626 Fair Mystery, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braetne, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

627 White Heather. By Wm. Black 20 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 

df “ My Lady’s Folly ” 20 

629 Cripps, the Carrier. By R. D. 

Blackmore 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. First half 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. Second half 20 

631 Christo well. By R. D. Blackmore 20 

632 Clara Vaughan. By R. D. Black- 

more 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 1st half 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 2d half 20 

634 Unforeseen, The. By Alice 

O’Hanlon 20 

635 Murder or Manslaughter? By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

636 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 1st half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 2d half 20 

637 What’s His Offence? By author 

of “ The Two Miss Flemings ” 20 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 

Black Horse) Dragoons. By 


J. S. Winter 10 

639 Othmar. By “Ouida” 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

641 Rabbi’s Spell, The. By Stuart 

C. Cumberland 10 

642 Britta. By George Temple 10 

643 Sketch-book of (jeoffrey Cray- 

on, Gent, The. By Washing- 
ton Irving 20 

644 Girton Girl, A. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains. By 

Rhoda Broughton 10 

646 Master of the Mine, The. By 

Robert Buchanan .... 20 

647 Goblin Gold. By May Crom- 

melin !• 

648 Angel of the Bells, The. By F. 

Du Boisgobey 20 

649 Cradle and Spade. By William 

Sime 20 

650 Alice; or. The Mysteries. (A Se- 

quel to “ Ernest Maltravers.”) 


By Sir E. Bulwer Lytton.... 20 

651 “ Self or Bearer.” By Walter 

Besant 10 

652 Lady With the Rubies, The. By 

E. Marlitt , 20 

663 Barren Title, A. T. W. Speight 10 

664 “ Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 

By Mra. Molesworth. 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBEARY— Pocket Editiojt. 




655 Open Door, The. By Mrs. Oli- 

phant lO 

656 Golden Flood, The. By R. E. 

Francillon and Wm. Senior.. 10 

657 Cliristnias Angel. By B. L. Far- 

jeon 10 

658 History of a Week, The. By 

Mrs. L. B. Walford 10 

659 Wait of the “ Cynthia,” The. 

By Jules Verne 20 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. Efy Miss 

Jane Porter. 1st half 20 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 

Jane Porter. 2d half 20 

661 Rainbow Gold. By David Chris- 

tie Murray 20 

662 Mystery of Allan Grale, The. By 

Isabella Fy vie Mayo. 20 

663 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover 20 

664 Rory O More. Bv Samuel Lover 20 

665 Dove in the Eagle’s Nest, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

666 My Young Alcides. By Char- 

lotte M. Yonge 20 

667 Golden Lion of Granpere, The. 

By Anthony Trollope 20 

668 Half-Way. An Anglo-French 

Romance 20 

669 Philosophy of Whist, The. By 

William Pole 20 

670 Rose and the Ring, The. By 

W. M. Thackeray. Illustrated 10 


671 Don Gesualdo. By“Ouida.”.. 10 

672 In Maremma. By ” Ouida.” 1st 

half 20 

672 In Maremma. By “ Ouida.” 2d 

half 20 

673 Story of a Sin. By Helen B. 

Mathers 20 

674 First Person Singular. By Da- 

vid Christie Murray .-. .. 20 

675 Mrs. Dymond. By Miss Thacke- 

ray 20 

676 Child’s History of England, A. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

677 Griselda. By the author of “A 

Woman’s Love-Story ” 20 


678 Dorothy’s Venture. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

679 Where Two Ways Meet. By 

Sarah Doudney 10 

680 Fast and Loose. By Arthur 

Griffiths 20 

681 Singer’s Story, A. By May 

LafTan 10 

682 In the Middle Watch. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

683 Bachelor Vicar of Newforth, 

The. By Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe 20 

684 Last Days at Apswich 10 

685 England under Gladstone. 1880 

—1886. By Justin H. McCar- 
thy, M.P 20 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 

Mr. Hyde. By Robert Louis 
Stevenson 10 

687 Country Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 

Oliphant. 


688 Man of Honor, A. By John 

Strange Winter. Illustrated. 10 

689 Heir Presumptive, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 

By Thomas Hardy 20 

691 Valentine Strange. By David 

Chri-stie Murray 20 

69* Mikado, The. and other Comic 
Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 
Sullivan 20 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical. By 

George Eliot 20 

694 John Maidment. By Julian 

Sturgis 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 

Deuce. By David Christie 
Murray 20 

696 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss 

Jane Poi’ter 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Bolsgobey. 1st half 20 

697aPretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half^ 20 

698 Life’s Atonement, A. ^y David 

Christie Murray 20 

699 Sculptor’s Daughter,' The. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. 1st half . . 20 
699 Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 


F. Du Boisgobey. 2d half. ... 20 
700 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 
Trollope. First half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. Second half 20 

701 Woman in White, The. Wilkie 

Collins. Illustrated. 1st half 20 

701 Woman in White, The, Wilkie 

Collins. Illustrated. 2d half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 

lins. First half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 

lins, Second half 20 

703 House Divided Against Itself, 

A. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

704 Prince Otto. By R. L. Steven- 

son 10 

705 Woman I Loved, The, and the t 

Woman Who Loved Me. By 
Isa Blagden 10 

706 Crimson Stain, A. By Annie 

Bradshaw 10 

707 Silas Marner: The Weaver of 

Raveloe. By George Eliot. . . 10 


708 Ormond. By Maria Edgeworth 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 

myra. By William Ware. 


First half 20 

709 Zenoj3ia, or. The Fall of Pal- 

myra. By William Ware. 
Second half 10 

710 Greatest Heiress in England, 

The. By Mrs. Oliphant 36 

711 Cardinal Sin, A. By Hugh Con- 

way, author of ” Called 
Back ” 90 

712 For Maimle’s Sake. By Grant 

Allen 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 


13 


713 “ Cherry Ripe.” By Helen B. 

Mathers 20 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty. By 

Tighe Hopkins 20 

715 I Have Lived and Loved. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished. By 

Mary Cet;il Hay 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, the Mar- 

riage Verdict. By Alexander 
Dumas 20 

718 Unfairly Won. By Mrs. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

By Lord Byron 10 

720 Paul Clifford. By Sir E.Bulwer 

Lytton, Bart 20 

721 Dolores. By Mrs. Forrester. . . ^ 

722 What’s Mine’s Mine. By George 

Macdonald .’ 20 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid 20 

724 My Loi'd and My Lady. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

By Silvio Pellico 10 

726 My Hero. By Mrs. Foi*rester.. 20 

727 P air Women. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

728 Janet’s Repentance. By George 

Eliot 10 

729 Mignon. By Mrs. Forrester... 20 

730 Autobiography of Benjamin 

Franklin, The 10 

731 Bayou Bride, The. By Mrs. 

Maiy E. Bryan 20 

732 PYom Olympus to Hades. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

?33 Lady Branksmere. By “The 
Duchess” 20 

734 Viva. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

735 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emily Spender 20 

736 R'>y and Viola. Mrs. Forrester 20 

737 Aunt Rachel. By David Christie 

Murray '. 10 

738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 

Lyall 20 

739 Caged Lion, The. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

740 Rhona. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

741 Heiress of Hilldrop, The; or. 

The Romance of a Young 
Girl. By Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

742 Love and Life. By Cliarlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 1st half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 
Russell. 2d half 20 


744 Diana Carew ; or. For a Wom- 

an's Sake. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 

gle for Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

f46 Cavalry Life; or. Sketches and 
Stories in Barracks and Out. 

By J. S. Wioter., ^ 


Our Sensation Novel. Edited 
by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. 10 
Hnrrish : A Study. 13y the 


Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

Lord Vanecourt's Daughter. By 
Mabel Collins 20 


An Old Story of My Farming 
D^s. P’ritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fi itz Reuter. 2d half 20 
Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Jules Vferue. 1st half 20 
Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Jules Verne. 2d half 20 
Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 


By Juliana Horatio Ewing. . . 10 
King Solomon’s Mines. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

How to be Happy Though Mar- 
ried. By a Graduate in the 

University of Matrimony 20 

Margery Daw. A Novel 20 

Strange Adventures of Captain 
Dangerous, The. By George 

Augtjstus Sala 20 

Love’s Martyr. By Laurence 

AlmaTadema. 10 

“ Good-bye, Sweetheart!” By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

In Shallow Waters. By Annie 

Armitt 20 

Aurelian ; or, Rome in the Thii’d 
Century. By William Ware. 20 
Will Weatherhelm. By William 

H. G. Kingston 20 

Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such. By George Eliot 10 

Midshipman, 'I'he, Marmaduke 
Merry. Wm. H. G. Kingston. 20 
Evil Genius, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

Not Wisely, But Too Well. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

No. XIII. ; or, 'I he Story of the 
Lost Vestal. Emma Marshall 10 
Joan. By Rhoda Broughton. . 20 
Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

Castle of Otranto, The. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

Mental Struggle, A. By “ The 

Duchess ” 20 

Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 
Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 
Mark of Cain, The. By Andrew 

Lang 10 

Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park, The 10 

Three Clerks, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 20 

P6re Goriot. By H. De Balzac 20 

Voyages and Travels of Sir 
John Maundeville, Kt., The.. 10 
Society’s Verdict. By the au- 
thor of “ My Marriage ” 20 

Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. 

By Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. 10 


747 

748 

749 

750 

750 

751 

751 

752 

753 

754 

755 

756 

757 

758 

759 

760 

761 

762 

763 

764 

765 

766 

767 

768 

769 

770 

771 

772 

773 

774 

775 

776 

777 

778 

779 


14 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Editioit. 


780 Rare Pale Mai jfaret. By the au- 

tlior of “ Wliat’s His Offence?” 20 

781 Secret Dispatch, Tlie, By James 

Grant 10 

782 Clost'd Door, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

782 Closed Doo- The. By F. Du 

Boissrobey. 2d half 20 

783 Chantry House. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

784 Two Miss Flemings, The. By au- 

thor of ” What's His Offence?” 20, 

785 Haunted Chamber, The. By 

“ The Duchess ” 10 

786 Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. By 

author of ” Petite's Romance ” 20 

787 Court Royal. A Story of Cross 

Currents B}' S. Baringr-Gould 20 

788 Absentee, The. An Irish Story. 

By Maria Edgeworth 20 

789 Through the Looking-Glass, 

and What Alice Found There. 

By Lewis Carroll. With fifty 
illustrations by JohnTenniei. 20 

790 Chaplet of Pearls. The; or, The 

White and Black Ribaumonr. 
Charlotte M, Yonge. 1st half 20 

790 Chaplet of Pearls, The; or. The 

Wtiite and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 

791 Mayor of Casterbridge, The. By 

Thomas Hardy 20 

792 Set in Diamonds. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne ”.. 1 .. 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfleld. First half 20 

793 Vivian Grey, By the Rt. Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfleld. Second half. . . 20 

794 Beaton’s Bargain. By Mrs, Al- 

©XHiiicl©r 

795 Sam’s Sweetheart. By Helen 

B, Mathers 20 

796 In a Grass Country, By Mrs. 

H. Lovett Cameron 20 

797 Look Before You Leap. By 

IMrs. Alexander 20 

798 Fashion of this World, The. By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

799 My Lady Green Sleeves. By 

Helen B. Mathers 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or, Scenes 

from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 

from the IJfe of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge, 2d half 20 

801 She Stoops to Ci^>nquer, and 

The Goc^-Natured Man. By 
Oliver Go’ "ismith 10 

802 Stern Chase, A . By Mrs.Cashel- 

Hoey 20 

803 Major Frank, By A. L. G, Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

804 Living or Dead. By Hugh Con- 

'vv ay, author of “Called Back ” 20 


805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. 1st half 30 

805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. 2d half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. First half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs, Alex- 

ander. Second lialf 20 

807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 
^8 King Arthur. Not a Love Story. 

By Miss Mulock 20 

809 Witness My Hand. By the au- 

thor of “ Lady Gwendolen’s 
Tryst ” 10 

810 Secret of Her Life, The. By Ed- 

ward Jenkins 20 

811 Head Station, The. By Mrs. 

Campbell-Praed 20 

812 No Saint. By Adeline Sergeant 20 

813 Army Society. Life in a Garri- 

son 'I'own. By John Strange 
Winter 10 

814 Heritage of Langdale, The. By 

Mrs. Alexander 30 

815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird. By Mrs. 

Alexander 10 

816 Rogues and Vagabonds. By 

George R. Sims, author of 

817 Stabbed in the Dark. By Mrs. 

E. Lynn Linton 10 

818 Pluck. By John Strange Winter 10 

819 Fallen Idol, A. By F. AnsteJ^ . . 20 

820 Doris's Fortune. By Florence 

Warden 10 

821 World Between Them, The. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne.” 20 

822 Passion Flower, A. A Novel... 20 

823 Heir of the Ages, The. By James 

Payn . . 20 

824 Her Own Doing, W. E. Norris 10 

825 Master Passion, The. By Flor- 

ence Marry at 20 

826 Cynic Fortune. By D. Christie 

Murray 20 

827 Effie Ogilvie. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

828 Prettied Woman in Warsaw, 

The. By Mabel Collins 20 

829 Actor's Ward, The. By the au- 

thor of “A Fatal Dower”... 20 

830 Bound by a Spell. Hugh Con- 

way. author of “ Called Back ” 20 

831 Pomegranate Seed. By the au- 

thor of “ The Two Miss Flem- 
ings,” etc 30 

832 Kidnapped. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 20 

&13 Ticket No. “9672.” By Jules 

Verne. First half lO 

833 Ticket No. “ 9672.” By Jules 

Verne. Second half 10 

834 Ballroom Repentance, A. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

835 Vivian the Beauty. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 20 

8§6 Point of Honor, A. By Mrs. An- 
nie Kd wards 3( 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pockrt Edition. 




837 Vagabond Heroine, A. B}’ Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 10 

838 Ouglit We to Visit Her? By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

839 Leaii : A Woman of Fashion. 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

840 One Thing Needful; or, The 

Penalty of Fate. By Miss M, 

E. Braddon 20 

841 Jel: Her Face or Her Fortune? 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

842 Blue-Stocking, A. By Mrs. An- 

nie Edwards 10 

843 Archie Lovell. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

84r4 Susan Fielding. By Mrs. Annie 
Edwards 20 

845 PhiliprEamscliffe ; or. The Mor- 

als of May Fair. By Mrs. 
Annie Edwards. 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 1st half.... 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 2d half 20 

847 Bad to Beat. By Hawley Smart 10 

848 My Friend Jim. By W. E. Norris 10 

849 Wicked Girl, A Mary Cecil Hay 20 

860 Playwright's Daughter, A. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

861 Cry of Blood, The. ’ By F. Du 

Boisgobey. First half 20 

851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. Second half 20 

852 Under Five Lakes; or. The 

Cruise of the “ Destroyer.” 

By M. Quad 20 

853 True Magdalen, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

854 Woman’s Error, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

855 Dynamiter, The. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson and Fanny 
Van de Grift Stevenson 20 

856 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 

ert Louis Stevenson 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. By Mary E. 
Bryan. First half 20 

867 Kildee; or. The ^hinx of the 

Red House. By Mary E. 
Bryan. Second half 20 

868 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

869 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 

Idyl, and The Prince of the lOO 
Soups. By Vernon Lee 20 

860 Her Lord and Master. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

861 My Sister the Actress. By Flor- 

ence Marry at 20 

862 Ugly Barrington. By ” The 

Duchess.” 10 

868 “ My Own Child.” By Florence 

Marryat 

804 “ No Intentions.” By Florence 
Marryat *0 


865 Written in Fire. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband ; or. 

Spiders of Society. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

867 Girls of Feversham, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

868 Petronel. By Florence Marryat 20 

869 Poison of Asps, The. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 10 

870 Out of His Reckoning. By Flor- 

. ence Mariyat 10 

871 Bachelor’s Idunder, A. By W. 

E. Norris 20 

872 With Cupid's Eyes. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

873 Harvest of Wild Oats, A. By 

Florence Marr 3 'at 20 

874 House Party, A. By “ Ouida ”. 10 

875 Lady Vahvorth's Diamonds. By 

“The Duchess” 20 

876 Mignon’s Secret. John Strange 

Winter 10 

877 Facing the Footlights. By Flor- 

ence Mariyat 20 

878 Little Tu’penny. By S. Baring- 

Gould 10 

879 Touchstone of Peril, The. Bj' 

R. E. Forrest 20 

880 Son of His Father, The. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

881 Mohawks. Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

882 Children of Gibeon. By Walter 

Besant 20 

883 Once Again. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

884 Voyage to the Cape, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

885 Les Mis6rab!es. Victor Hugo. 

Part 1 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Part II 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Partin 20 

886 Paston Carew, Millionaire and 

Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton 20 

887 Modern Telemachus, A. Bj' 

Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

888 Treasure Island. Robert Louis 

St'-venson 10 

889 An Inland Voyage. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 10 

890 Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 

mas, 1886. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

891 Vera Nevill; or. Poor Wisdom’s 

Chance. By Mrs. H. Lovett 
Cameron 20 

892 That Winter Night; or. Love's 

Victory. Robert Buchanan. . 10 

893 Love's Conflict. By Florence 

Marryat. First half 21 

893 Love’s Conflict. By Florence 

Marryat. Second half 20 

894 Doctor Cupid. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

896 Star and a Heart, By Flor- 
ence Mariyat 10 

896 Guilty River, The. By Wilkie 
CoUins 10 


16 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition, 


897 Ang-e. By Florence Marryat. . . 20 

898 Bulldog and Butterfly, and Julia 

and Her Romeo, by David 
Christie Murray, and Romeo 
and Juliet, by William Black. 20 


899 Little Stepson, A. By Florence 

Mairyat 10 

900 Woman’s Wit, By. By Mrs. Al- 

exander 20 

901 Lucky Disappointment, A. By 

Florence Marryat 10 

902 Poor Geritlemarr, A. By Mrs. . 

Oliphant 20 

903 Phyllida. By Florence Marryat ^ 

904 Holy Rose, The. By Walter Be- 

sant 10 

905 Fair-Haired Alda, The. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

906 World Went Very Well Then, 

The. By Walter Besant 20 

907 Bright Star of Life, The. By 

B. L. Farjeon 20 

908 W’illful Young Woman, A 20 

909 Nine of Hearts, Tlie. By B. L. 

Farjeon 20 

910 She: A History of Adventure. 

By H. Rider Haggard 20 

911 Golden Bells: A Peal in Seven 

Changes. By R. E. Francillou 20 

912 Pure Gold. By Mrs. H. Lovett 

Cameron 20 

913 Silent Shore. The. By John 

Bloundelle- Burton 20 

914 Jean Wentworth. By l^tha- 

rine S. Macquoid 20 

915 That Other Person. By Mrs. 

Alfred Hunt 20 

916 Golden Hope, The. By W. Clark 

Russell. 20 

917 Case of Reuben Malachi, The. 

By H. Sutherland Edwards.. 10 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 

gobey. First half 20 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. Second half 20 


919 Locksley Hall Sixty Years Af- 

ter, etc. By Alfred, Lord 
Tennyson, P.L., D.C.L 10 

920 Child of the Revolution, A. By 


the author of “ Mademoiselle 
Mori ” 20 

921 Late Miss Hollingford, The. 

By Rosa Mulholland 10 

922 Marjorie. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme. author of “Dora 
Thorne.” 20 

287 At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

923 At War With Herself. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme. (Largatype 
edition) 20 

924 ’Twixt Smile and Tear. Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of . 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

925 The Outsider. Hawley Smart. 20 

926 Springhaven. By R. D. Black- 

more 20 


927 Sweet Cymbeliue. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

294 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme 10 

928 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 20 

929 The Belle of Lynn; or, The 

Miller's Daughter. By Char- 
lotte ]\I. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

930 Uncle Max. By RosaNouchette 

Carey 20 

931 Lady Diana’s Pride. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” . . . . r 20 

932 Queenie’s Whim. Rosa Nou- 

chette Carey 20 

933 A Hidden Terror. Mary Albert 20 

934 Wooed and Married. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey 20 

935 Borderland. Jessie Fothergill. 20 

936 Nellie’s Memories. Bi' Rosa 

Nouchette Carey 20 

937 Cashel Byron’s Profession. By 

George Bernard Shaw 20 

938 Cranford. By Mrs. Gaskell.... 20 

939 Why Not? Florence Marryat.. 20 

940 The Blerry Men, and Other Tales 

and Fables. By Robert Louis 
Stevenson 20 

941 Jess. By H. Rider Haggard .. . 20 

942 Cash on Delivery. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

943 Weavers and W’’eft; or, “Love 

that Hath Us in His Net.” By 
Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

944 The Professor. By Charlotte 

Bront6 20 

945 The Trumpet-Major. Thomas 

Hardy 20 

946 The Dead Secret. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

947 Publicans and Sinners: or, Lu- 

cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 
Braddon. First half 20 

947 Publicans and Sinners; or, Lu- 

cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 
Braddon. Second half 20 

293 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

948 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne.” (Large type 

edition) 20 

949 Claribel’s Love Story; or. 

Love’s Hidden Depths. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne” 20 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey. By “ The Duch- 
ess.” (Large type edition). .. 20 

950 Mrs. Geoffrey. “ The Duchess ” 10 
459 Woman’s Temptation, A By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBEAKY — Pocket Edition. 


17 


951 Woman's Temptation, A. By 


Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

295 Woman’s War, A. By Chai’Iotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

952 Woman’s War, A. By Charlotte 


M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne.” (Large t3'pe edition) 20 
297 Hilary’s Folly: or. Her Mar- 
riage Vow. By Cliarlotte M. 
Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

953 Hilary’s Folly; or, Her Mar- 

riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne.” (Large tj’pe edition) 20 

954 A Girl’s Heart. By the author 


of “Nobody’s Darling” 20 

2S8 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 

From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 
tj’pe edition) 20 

956 Her Johnnie. By Violet Whj'te 20 

957 The Woodlauders. By Thomas 

Hardy 20 

958 A Haunted Life; or. Her Terri- 

ble Sin. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”.. . 20 


959 Dawn. By H. Rider Haggard. 20 

960 Elizabeth’s Fortune. By Bertha 


Thomas 20 

961 Wee Wifie. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey 20 

962 Sabina Zembra. William Black ^ 

963 Worth Winning. By Mrs. H. 

Lovett Cameron 20 

964 A Struggle for the Right; or, 

O'racking the Truth 20 

965 Periwinkle. By Arnold Gray. . 20 

966 He, by the author of “King 

Solomon’s Wives”; and A 
Siege Baby and Childhood’s 

Memories, by J. S. Winter 20 

237 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne.” (LS'i’ge tj'pe 
Edition) !... 20 

967 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 

968 Blossom and Fruit; or, Ma- 

dame’sWard. B3’ the author 
of “ Wedded Hands ” 20 

969 The Myster3" of Colde Fell ; or. 

Not Proven. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

970 King Solomon’s Wives; or. The 

Phantom Mines, By Hyder 
Ragged. (Illustrated) 20 

971 Garrison Gossip; Gathered in 

Blankhampton. John Strange 
Winter 20 

972 Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt 20 


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LATEST ISSUES: 


KO. FKIOK. 

C69 Pole on Whist 20 

482 THE WITCH’S HEAD. By 

H. Rider HaK^ard 20 

980 To Call Her Mine. By Walter 

Besant 20 

981 Granville de Vigne ; or, Held in 

Bondage. By “Ouida.” 1st 
half 20 

981 Granville de Vigne; or. Held in 

Bondage. By “ Ouida.” 2d 
half 20 

982 The Duke’s Secret. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeine, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

983 Uarda. A Romance of Ancient 

Egypt. By George Ebers 20 

984 Her Own Sister. By E. S. 

Williamson 20 

985 On Her Wedding Morn, and 

The Mystery of the Holly- 
Tree. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

986 The Great Hesper. By Frank 

Barrett 20 

987 Brenda Yorke, and Upon the 

Waters. By Mary Cecil Hay. 20 

988 The Shattered Idol, and Letty 

Leigh. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

989 Allan Qiiatermain. By H.Rider 


Haggard 20 

990 The Earl’s Error, and Arnold’s 

Promise. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne” 20 

991 Mr. Midshipman Easy. By Cap- 

tain Marry at 20 

992 Marrying and Giving in Mar- 

riage. By Mrs. Molesworth... 20 

993 Fighting the Air. By Florence 

Marry at 20 

994 A Penniless Orphan. By W. 

Heimburg 20 

995 An Unnatural Bondage, and 

That Beautiful Lady. Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 


996 Idalia. By “ Ouida.” 1st half. 20 

996 Idalia. By “Ouida.” 2d half. 20 

997 Forging the Fetters, and The 

Australian Aunt. By Mrs. 
Alexander 20 

998 Open, Sesame 1 By Florence 

Marry at 20 

999 The Second Wife. E. Marlitt. ^ 


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1000 Puck. By “ Ouida.” 1st half 180 

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1001 Lady Adelaide’s Oath; or, The 

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Wood 20 

1002 Marriage at a Venture. By 

Emile GaboriAu 20 

1003 Chandos. By “Ouida.” 1st 

half 20 

1003 Chandos. By “Ouida.” 2d 
half 20 


1004 Mad Dumaresq. By Florence 

Marry at 20 

1005 99 Dark Street. F.W. Robinson 20 

1006 His Wife’s Judgment. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

1007 Miss Gascoigne. By Mrs. J. 

H. Riddell 20 

1008 A Thorn in Her Heart. Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

1009 In an Evil Hour, and Other 

Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 20 

1010 Golden Gates. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

1011 Texar’s Vengeance; or. North 

Versus South. Jules Verne. 
Part 1 20 

1012 A Nameless Sin. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 


1013 The Confessions of Gerald 

Estcourt. Florence Marryat. 20 

1014 A Mad Love. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme, author of “ Dora 


Thorne” 20 

1016 A Modern Circe. By “ The 
Duchess” 20 


1017 Tricotrin. The Story of a Waif 
and Stray. “Ouida.” 1st half 20 

1017 Tricotrin. The Story of a Waif 

and Stray. “Ouida,” 2d half 20 

1018 As in a Looking-Glass. By F, 

C. Philips .'. 20 

1020 Michael Strogoff; or, The Cou- 

rier of the Czar. Jules Verne 20 

1021 The Heir to Ashley, and The 

Red -Court Farm. By Mrs. 


Henry Wood 20 

1022 Driven to Bay. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

1024 Under the Storm ; or. Stead- 
fast’s Charge. By Charlotte 
M. Yonge 20 


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^achfolgende Werke sind in der „Deutscben Library “ erschienen: 


1 Der Kaiser von Prof. G. Ebers 20 
•i Die Soinosierra von R. Wald- 
iniiller 10 

5 DasGeiieimnissderalten Mam- 

sell. Roman von E. Marlitt. 10 
4 Qmsisaua von Fr. Spielhagen 10 

6 Gartenlauben-Bliithen von E. 

Werner 20 

6 Die Hand der Nemesis von E. 

A. Konijr 20 

7 Amtmann’s Ma^d v. E Marlitt 20 

8 Vineta von E. Werner 20 

9 Auf der RUinmingsburg von M. 

Widdern 10 

10 Das Haus Hillel von Max Ring 20 

11 Giiickauf ! von E. Werner 10 

12 Goldelse von E. Marlitt 20 

13 Vater und Sohn von F. Lewald 10 

14 Die WUrger von Paris von C. 

Vacmio 20 

16 Der lAmantscbleifer von Ro- 
sentlTal Bonin 10 

16 Ingo und Ingraban von Gustav 

Freytag 20 

17 Eine Frage von Georg Ebers.. 10 

18 Im Paradiese von Patil Heyse 20 

19 In beiden Hemispbaren von 

Sutro 10 

20 Grelebt undgelitten von H. Wa- 

chenbusen 20 

21 Die Eichliofs von M. von Rei- 

chenbach 10 

22 Kinder der Welt von P. Heyse. 

Erste Haifte 20 

22 Kinder der Welt von P. Heyse. 

ZweiteHalfte 20 

28 Barftlssele von Berth old Auer- 
bach 10 

24 Das Nest der ZaunkSnige von 

G. Frey tag 20 

25 Fiiiblingsboten von E. Werner 10 

26 Zelle No. 7 von Pierre Zacoue 20 

27 Die junge Frau v. H. Wachen- 

husen 20 

28 Buchenheim von Th. v. Varn- 

biiler 10 

29 Auf derBahn des Verbreehens 

V. Evvald A. Kdnig 20 

80 Brigitta von Berth. Auerbach.. 10 

31 Im Scliillingshof v. E. Marlitt 20 

32 Gesprengte Fesseln v. E. Wer- 

ner , 10 

33 Der Heiduck von Hans Wa- 

chenhusen 20 

34 Die Sturmhexe von GrSfin M. 

KeyserJing 10 

85 Das Kind Bajazzo’s von E. A. 

Kdnig 20 


86 Die Brtider vom deutschen 

Hause von Gustav Freytag. . 20 

87 Der Wilddieb v. F, Gerstftcker 10 
38 Die Verlobte von Rob. Wald- 

mtiller 20 

Oi 


39 Der DoppelgSuger von L. 

Schiickitig 10 

40 Die weisse Frau von Greifen- 

stein von E. Fels 20 

41 Hans und Grete von Fr. Spiel- 

hagen 10 

42 Mein Onkel Don Juan von H. 

Hopfen 20 

43 Mai-kus Kiinig v. Gustav Frey- 

tag 20 

44 Die scbCnen Amerikanerinnen 

von Fr. Spielhagen 10 

45 Das grosse Loos v. A. Kdnig.. 20 

46 Zur Ehre Gottes von Sacher 

und Ultimo v. F. Spielhagen 10 

47 Die Geschwister von Gustav 

Freytag 20 

48 Biscliof und Kdnig von Mariam 

Tenger und Der Piratenkd- 
nig von M. Jokai 10 

49 Reichsgrafin Gisela v. Marlitt 20 

50 BevvegteZeiten v.Leon Alexan- 

drowitsch 10 

51 Urn Ehre und Leben von E. A. 

Kdnig 20 

52 Aus einer kleinen Stadt v. Gu- 

stav Frey tag 20 

53 Hildegard von Ernst v.Waldow 10 
64 Dame Orange von Hans Wa- 

clienhusen 20 

55 Johannisnacht von M. Schmidt 10 

56 Angela von Fr. Spielhagen ... 20 

57 Falsche Wege von J. v. Brun- 

Barnow 10 

68 Versunkene Welten von Wilh. 

Jensen 20 

59 Die Wohnungssucher von A. 

von Winterfeld 10 

60 Eine Million von E. A, Kdnig 20 

61 Das Skelet von F. Spielhagen 

und Das Frdlenliaus von Gu- 
stav zu Putlitz 10 

62 Soli und Haben v. G. Freytag. 

Erste Halfte 20 

62 Soil und Haben v. G. Freytag. 

Zweite HSlfte 20 

63 Schloss Griinwald von Char- 

lotte Fielt 10 

64 Zwei Kreuzherren von Lucian 

Herbert 20 

65 Die Erlebnisse einer Schutzlo- 

sen V. Kath. Sutro-Schiicking 10 

66 Das Haideprinzesschen von E. 

Marlitt 20 

67 Die Geyer-Wally von Wilh. von 

Hillern 10 

66 Idealisten von A. Reinow 20 

69 Am Altar von E. Werner 10 

70 Der Kdnig der Luft von A. v. 

Winterfeld 20 

71 Mosehko von Parma v. Karl E. 

Franzos JO 


DIE DEUTSCHE LIBRARY. 


72 Schuld uud SUhne von Ewald 

A. Kdnig 

73 In Reih’ und Glied v. F. Spiel- 

hagen. Erste Hfiifte 

73 III Reih’ uud Glied v. F. Spiel- 

hagen. Zweite H8,lfte 

74 Geheimnisse einer kleiuen 

Stadt von A. von Winterfeld 

75 Das Landhaus am Rhein von 

B. Auerbach. Erste HSlfte., 

75 Das Laudhaus am Rliein von 

B. Auerbach. Zweite HSlfte 

76 Clara Vere, von Friedrich Spiel- 

hagen 

77 Die Frau Biirgermeisterin von 

G. Ebers 

78 Aus eigener Kraft von Wilh. 

V. Hillern 

79 Ein Kampf urn’s Recht von K. 

Franzos 

80 Prinzessin Schnee von Marie 

Widdern 

81 Die zweite Frau von E. Marlitt 

82 Benvenuto von Fanny Lewald 

83 Pessimisten von F. von Stengel 

84 Die Hofdame der Erzherzogin 

von F. von Witzleben-Wen- 
delstein 

85 Ein Vierteljahrhundert von B. 

Young 

86 Thiiringer Erzfihlungen von E. 

Marlitt 

87 Der Erbe von Mortella von A. 

Dom 

88 Vom armen egyptisclien Mann 

v. Hans Wachenhusen 

89 Der goldene Schatz aus dem 

dreissigjlihrigen Krieg v. E. 
A. KOnig 

90 Das Fraulein von St. Ama- 

ranthe von R. von Gottschall 

91 Der Fiirst von Montenegro v. 

A. Winterfeld 

92 Um ein Herz von E Falk 

93 Uarda von Georg Ebers 

94 In der zwolften Stunde von 

Fried. Spielhagen und Ebbe 
und Fluth von M. Widdern... 

95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr. 

Spielhagen. Enste Hiilfte. . 

95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr. 

Spielhagen. Zweite Halfte.. 

96 Deutsch und Slavisch v. Lucian 

Herbert 

97 Im Hause des Commerzien- 

Raths von Marlitt 

98 Helene von H. Wachenhusen 

und Die Prinzessin von Por- 
tugal V. A. Meissner 

99 Aspasia von Robert Hammer- 

ling 

100 Ekkehard v. Victor v, Scheffel 

101 EinKampfumRom V. F.Dahn. 

Erste HUlfte 

101 Ein Kampf um Rom v, F.D a hn. 

Zweite HSIfte 

J02 Sninoza von Berth. Auerbach. 
103 Von der Erde zum Mond von 
J. Verne 


104 Der Todesgruss der Leglonen 

von G. Samarow 20 

105 Reise um den Mond von Julius 

Verne 10 

106 Fiirst und Musiker von Max 

Ring 20 

107 Nena Sahib v. J. Retclifife. Er- 

ster Band 20 

107 Nena. Saliib von J. Retclifife. 

Zvvei ter Band 20 

107 Nena Sahib von J. Retclifife. 

DritterBand 20 

108 Reise nach dem Jlittelpunkte 

der Erde von Julius Verne 10 

109 Die silberne Hochzeit von S. 

Kohn 10 

110 Das Spukehaus von A. v. W’in-*^ 

terfeld 20 

111 Die Erben des Wahnsinns von 

T. Marx 10 


112 Der Ulan von Joh. van Dewall 10 
113. Um hohen Preis V. E. Werner 20 
114 Schwarzvvaider Dorfgeschich- 
ten von B. Auerbach. Erste 


Halfte 20 

114 Schwarzwalder Dorfgescbich- 

ten V. B. Auerbach. Z«ite 

Halfte 20 

115 Reise um die Erde von Julius 

Verne 10 

116 Casars Ende von S. J. R. 

(Schluss von 104) 20 

117 Auf Capri von Carl Detlef 10 

118 Severa von E. Hartner 20 

119 Ein Arzt der Seele von Wilh. 

V. HiUern 20 

120 Die Livergnas von Hermann 

Willfried 10 

121 Zwanzigtauseucl ]\Ieilen un- 

term Meer von J. Verne 20 

122 Mutter und Sohn von August 

Godin.... 10 

123 Das Hans des Fabrikanten v. 

Samarow 20 

124 Bruderpflicht und Liebe von 

Schiicking 10 


125 Die Rdmerfahrt der Epigonen 

V. G. Samarow. Erste flaifte 20 

125 Die Rdmerfahrt der Epigonen 

V. G. Samarow. ZweiteHalfte 20 

126 Porkeles und Porkelessa von 


J Scherr 10 

127 Ein FriedensstCrer von Victor 

Bluthgen und Der heimliche 
Gast von R. Byr 20 

128 Schdne Frauen v. R. Edmund 

Hahn jo 

129 Bakchen und Thyrsostrager 

von A. Niemann 20 

130 Getrennt. Roman von E.Polko 10 

131 Alte Ketten. Roman von L. 

Schiicking. 20 

132 Ueber die Wolken v. Wilhelm 

Jensen jq 

133 Das Gold des Orion von H. 

Rosenth al-Bon in ^ jo 

134 Um den Halbmond von Sama* 

row. Erste Haifte 20 


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DIE DEUTSCHE llBRAnY. 


134 Um den Halbmond von Sama- 

row. Zweite Halfte 20 

135 Troubadour - Novellen von P, 

Heyse...; 10 

136 Der Schweden-Schatz von H. 

Wachenliuson 20 

137 Die Bettlerin vom Pont des 

Arts und Das Bild des Kaisers 
von Wilh. Hauff 10 

138 Modelle. Hist. Roman von A. v. 

Winterfeld 20 

139 Der Krieg um *die Haube von 

Stef aide Kejser 10 

HO Numa Roumestan v. Alphonse 

Daudet 20 

141 SpStsommer. Novelle von C. 


von Sydow und Engelid, No- 
velle V. Balduin Mollhausen 10 
142 Bartolomaus von Brusehaver 
u. Musma Cussalin. Novellen 


von L. Ziemssien 10 

143 Ein gemeuchelter Dichter. Ko- 
mischer Roman von A. von 
Winterfeld. Erste Halfte. .. . 20 

143 Ein gemeuchelier Dichter. Ko- 

niischer Roman von A. von 
Winterfeld. Zw'eite Halfte. . 20 

144 Ein Wort. Neuer Roman von 

G. Ebers 20 

145 Novellen von Paul Hej'se 10 

146 Adam Homo in Versen v. Pa- 

ludan-Miiller 20 

147 Ihr einziger Bruder von W. 

Heimburg, 10 

148 Ophelia. Roman von H. von 

Lankenau 20 

149 Nemesis v. Helene v. HUlsen 10 

150 Felicitas. Histor. Roman von 

F. Dahn 10 

lol Die Claudier. Roman v. Ernst 

Eckstein 20 

152 Eine Verlorene von Leopold 

Kompert •. 10 

153 Luginsland. Roman von Otto 

Roquette 20 

154 Im Banne der Musen von W. 

Heimburg 10 

l')5 Die Schwester v. L. Schiicking 10 
1.56 Die Colonie von Friedrich Ger- 

stScker 20 

157 Deutsche Liebe. Roman v. M. 

Miiller 10 

158 Die Rose von Delhi von Fels 

Erst^ HSlfte 20 

158 Die Rose von Delhi von Fels. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

159 Debora. Roman von W. Muller 10 


160 Eine Mutter v. Friedrich Ger- 

stacker 20 

161 Friediiofsblume von W. von 

Hillern.- 10 

162 Nach der ersten Liebe von K. 

Frenzel 20 

163 Gebannt u. erlast v. E. Werner 20 

164 Uhlenhans. Roman von Iried. 

Spielhagen 20 

165 Klytia. Histor. Roman von G. 

Taylor 20 

166 Mayo. ErzShlung v. P. Lindau 10 

167 Die Herrin von Ibichstein von 

F. Henkel 20 

168 Die Saxoborussen von Sama- 

row. Erste HSlfte 20 

168 Die Saxoborussen von Sama- 

rovv. Zweite Hftlfte 20 

169 Serapis. Histor. Roman v. G. 

Ebers 20 

170 Ein Gottesurtheil. Roman von 

E. Werner 10 

171 Die Kreuzfahrer. Roman von 

Felix Dahn 20 

172 Der Erbe von Weidenhof von 

F. Pelzeln 20 

173 Die Reise nach dem Schicksal 

v. Franzos 10 

174 Villa Schdnow. Roman v. W. 

Raabe 10 

175 Das Vermachtniss v. Eckstein. 

Erste Halfte 20 

175 Das Vermachtniss v. Eckstein. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

176 Herr und Frau Bewer von P. 

Lindau 10 

177 Die Nihilisten von .Joh. Scherr 10 

178 Die Frau mit den Karfunkel- 

steinen von E. Marlitt 20 

179 Jetta. Von George Taylor 20 

180 Die Stieftochter. Von J. Smith 20 

181 An der Heilquelle. Von Fried. 

Spielhagen 20 

182 Was der Todtenkopf erzSliit, 

von Jokai 20 

183 Der Zigeunerbaron, von Jokai 10 

184 Himmlische u. irdische Liebe, 

von Paul Heyse 20 

185 Ehre, Roman v. O. Schubin... ^ 

186 Violanta, Roman v.E. Eckstein 20 

187 Nemi, Erziihlung von H. Wa- 

chenhusen 10 

188 Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall. 

Erste Halfte 20 

188 Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

189 Homo sum, Roman von Georg 

Ebers 20 


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